The Wounds a Heart Can Bear
by Copperfang
Summary: PREVIOUSLY TITLED 'THE BURDEN OF GUILT'. Legolas is a young elfling when his mother is killed before his eyes. Grief and guilt cause him to withdraw his heart. Then he meets Estel, who is only a boy. Can Estel help heal Legolas' inner hurts? It becomes mo
1. Death of the queen

A/N: To save some confusion that may arise, I'll tell you this: This story was originally my own, with my owns characters and settings. I just thought I would change it to turn it into a fanfic. I altered the Elvish so it would sound more Tolkien-ish, but there are some things I didn't change. It's hard enough changing the names and all that jazz, as well as the places and Elvish, to look around on the internet to find certain terms. Forgive me if there's something wrong in here, better yet, give me a correct term.

I hope you like it! Reviews will be welcome!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I swear it! So...so you lawyers can go now... waves hand at lawyers standing in doorway lawyers: Awww...

Thunder growled in the distance. The lightning revealed barren land, dyed black from the heavy smog and poisonous gases in the air. The roiling thunderclouds trembled, ready to release the water they held, but no rain came. They swept over the sky, unable to bring what they were meant to deliver.

Far below them, a group of orcs were gathered. They laughed hoarsely in the night, gathered around a small fire and speaking in a cursed language. There were almost forty of them. Their scimitars and double-headed axes were thrown carelessly down upon the ground.

One stood and moved away from the group, sniffing audibly as he scented the air. He looked down at the ten slaves they had captured. Some were asleep, but the ones that were not stared up at him with large eyes that glistened in fear and pain. There was the sound of clinking chains as they tried to shuffle back from the horrid creature in front of them. The orc laughed at their fear, a deep guttural sound that grated upon their ears. He spat on the ground at their feet before turning back and heading for the fire once more and sitting next to another orcs on a large rock. The slaves visibly relaxed and huddled close together for warmth and comfort, the chains that bound them rubbing against each other with quiet screeches.

Only one sat away from the group, her back turned. Iron shackles were snapped about her wrists, connecting her to the group behind her, but she stayed as far away as possible. She was not like them. A faint blue glow emanated around her in the dimness, revealing what she truly was: an elf maiden. She rocked slowly back and forth, murmuring in her native language to comfort a small bundle in her arms. The bundle wrapped in her protective embrace whimpered and a small hand clutched the front of her dress.

"_Nana_," the little being whispered. "Mama. I want to go home." The elven maiden nodded and kissed the small elf boy she held in her arms. His tunic and leggings were dirtied and torn, his long blond hair mussed and streaked with dust, but he was other than that unharmed, save for the bruises an orc had given him earlier. He was nine years old in what elves would call "human years," for elves matured much slower than humans, given the fact that they were immortal. In reality the boy was nearly twenty, though he was still small and still considered a child of nine.

"I know, Legolas, I know," the maiden clutching the boy whispered into his golden hair. "I do too. We will be free soon, _ion-nîn_, my son." At least, that was what the maiden hoped. Her name was Khílya; she was married to Thranduil Mirkwood, an elven kingdom. The only thing that complicated the matter was that Thranduil was the forest's king, and she its queen. That made the small child in her arms its prince, and that was a cost too great to pay if she lost him. She could feel him shivering in her arms, mostly from fear. They had been captured almost three days ago. Thranduil, along with his wife and child, had been traveling east to visit Rivendell, another elven realm. Thranduil had wanted to discuss some matters with Lord Elrond, the ruler of Rivendell, since Mirkwood and they have had some conflicts in the past. Khílya remembered that day horribly.

"Ada_, daddy, when are we going to get there?" Legolas asked, trying to be heard over the pounding of horses' hooves. He was riding in front of Khílya, who had her arms around him protectively, gripping the horse's mane. Elves did not ride with a saddle or bridle, for the animals understood and trusted them completely._

"_Soon, _ion-nîn, _soon," Thranduil replied, looking over at his son fondly. Legolas had his father's features, golden hair, and fair face. But he had his mother's bright blue eyes, the color of the sky, and his mother's kind heart. Unfortunately he also had his father's stubbornness and impatience, as he was showing now as they trekked beneath the trees._

"_I'm tired of waiting," Legolas said huffily, crossing his arms. Khílya patted his slim shoulder. She glanced at Thranduil, informing her husband of her intentions before she kicked the horse's underbelly, setting it into a gallop. Legolas whooped happily and leaned over the mare's long neck, watching the ground and shrubs as they rushed quickly by. He turned his face forward again and let the wind play with his golden locks, enjoying the ride. It had been too long since he was out like this. He was always kept within the palace walls. Even though the palace had a garden, it was not enough to quench the wild fire in the prince's heart. He always longed for the outdoors when he was forced to stay inside._

_Khílya pulled the horse to a stop so Thranduil and the guards could catch up. Thranduil's horse skidded to a stop beside Khílya's. She turned her flushed face to him and smiled brilliantly, and Thranduil lost whatever he had been about to say. He saw in her eyes that she had needed that dash as much as Legolas had needed it._

_Legolas began bouncing in his seat. The mare he was upon snuffled, but she accepted the young one's energy and didn't complain._

"Ada, _did you see how fast we were going?" the young elfling asked excitedly, still bouncing. "We were on the wind's tail!"_

"_Of course you were, _ion-nîn_," Thranduil said distractedly, still gazing fondly at his wife. She smiled and kicked the horse into a light trot._

It had started out so right. They had been making good time and would have arrived at Rivendell by sundown. Why had everything gone so horribly wrong?

Khílya hunched over her small son, holding him against her breast. He shifted and pressed his face against her side, gripping her dirtied dress in his slim fingers. His eyes were closed as he slept, and that worried the queen. Elves slept with their eyes open, for they wandered through their dreams as they regained their strength. Only when elves were injured, mightily depressed or ill did they hide the light of their eyes, for that meant they had not enough energy to dream, and that their light hearts were darkening.

Khílya allowed a tear to escape her eye and run down her cheek, trailing through the dirt and grime that coated her fair cheeks. Where was Thranduil? When would they escape this evil?

"_My Lord," a guard muttered. "I sense evil nearby." The whisper was barely audible, but the king's keen elven ears picked up the warning. He turned to his wife._

"_Khílya," he said, trying to make sure his son didn't hear him. "The guards sense something of evil will nearby. Pull back."_

_The queen nodded and slowed the mare until two guards, who had their bows drawn and notched, flanked her. Their eyes flitted over the shrubs and trees of the path, watching for evil._

"Hëncda-kíl!_" a guard shouted suddenly in Elvish. "Watch out!" A black arrow whizzed from the trees, but the shout came too late, for the tip of the arrow embedded itself deep into the heart of a guard. He was dead before he hit the ground, and the horse he had been riding reared and shrieked in surprise. A volley of arrows flew from the darkness between the trees, many hitting their marks and felling the guards that protected the royal family. _

_Rough gibberish filled the air. A swarm of orcs filed from the trees, surrounding the remaining four guards and the small family they were fighting to protect. The guards' horses closed in around Khílya's, shielding her and the prince from any more arrows. They drew their swords, but did not yet make any moves. The orcs closed in around the elves, muttering in the dark language. They raised their blades, whether it be to a sword or ax, and growled threateningly. _

_Khílya wrapped an arm around her son protectively, unsheathing her own graceful sword and watching the vecz warily. Legolas huddled back against her, trembling. He had never seen so many orcs in one place at one time. They normally fended for themselves or traveled in small groups. They wore black armor over their chests and arms, and some had horned helmets. This was a gathered army built for only one purpose: destruction. _

_With a loud battle cry, the orcs pressed in upon the elves, raising their weapons for the kill. Confusion ensued, and the sounds of clanging steel and painful cries rent the air. Birds took wing in surprise, and deer bolted in alarm. The peaceful night air was disrupted as the battle began._

_Khílya slew another orc, trying desperately to keep her son safe. She stayed upon her mount, twisting on its back to reach every orc that came too close. The mare beneath her nickered nervously and worked with her charge, lashing out with her hooves and butting the foul creatures away, heedless of the gashes and scrapes she was receiving from the orcs' sharp weapons. _

"_Khílya!" Thranduil called across the path, where he was fighting off an enormous group of vecz. "Khílya, _frítea-ü nyav thásl _Legolas_ cuoisa!_ Take Legolas and run!" He shouted in Elvish to hide the command. Khílya cast one last glance at her husband. She normally would have stayed to fight, but her child's life was in danger, and she couldn't risk it. _

_With one last prayer to her loved one, Khílya spun her mare and kicked its underbelly, setting it into a fevered gallop. The horse leaped over the barrier of orcs, then dashed away into the night. A pack of orcs broke off from the main group and followed. Thranduil bid a prayer to the stars to keep them safe._

_Khílya heard the orcs after her, but she was outpacing them. Their shrieks were growing more and more faint as she pressed on, desperate to escape. Her long brown hair flowed in the rushing winds. She ducked quickly beneath a low branch. Her pointed ears heard the sound of a flying ax, but she did not have time to swerve her mount aside before the blade of the ax hit the horse's hindquarters with a sickening thump. The mare squealed and collapsed as its legs gave out beneath it. Before the mare's head hit the ground, Khílya lifted Legolas in her arms and leaped from the fallen horse's back. She stopped her fall with a roll and ended up in a crouch. She prepared to run, but the orcs closed in around the front of her, blocking off the escape as the rest covered from behind, stabbing the helpless horse quickly with a spear. _

_Khílya straightened, holding Legolas tightly in her arms. He buried his face against her chest to hide his eyes from the horrid grins and evil giggles surrounding him. A bulky orcs stepped forward and eyes the elf maiden up and down, wondering what to do with her. He suddenly laughed._

"_Bind her. We'll take her back to the slaves. It's not every day you get an elf slave."_

_They took out a thick rope and pressed forward. They wrenched Legolas from her arms, not bothering being gentle, and bound her hands in front of her. They marched back to the plains. They shoved the female elf ahead of them, sometimes poking her with their weapons, while another carried Legolas. He fought viciously against the creature that reeked of evil, but it only tightened its hold until it was hurting him. It was not long before Khílya was thrust into shackles and tossed carelessly upon the ground. Legolas was thrown down after her, and he rushed eagerly into his mother's waiting arms._

"_Don't cause any trouble," an orc growled. "We'll be watching."_

"_Ada_," Legolas murmured, opening his eyes. "Where's _Ada_?" Khílya quickly brushed her tears away before her son could see them. She didn't want him to despair.

"I'm not sure, _Vynithel_," she replied, using the prince's nickname she had given him. It was formed from both the Elven language and the Stezctkin language, which was the language of the moon. Stezctkin was an ancient dialect and not many people knew how to speak it. "Vynithel" was a mix of both languages, but it could be roughly translated to mean "child of the stars."

"_Naneth_, Mother, I cannot see the stars," Legolas whimpered, remembering them when he heard his nickname and tightening his hold on her. His light blue eyes flickered over the threatening thunderclouds overhead, where the stars should have been. "I'm scared, Nana. I want Ada. I want to go home." The little one's eyes misted over with tears. Khílya felt her heartstrings tug. She gently brushed a blond lock of hair from his thin face and tucked it fondly behind his pointed ear.

"It's all right, little one," she soothingly murmured. "We will go home. And you will see the trees again. You will see the squirrels and birds. You will see your centií again."

"My centií?" Neldë asked fondly, his eyes glazing as he remembered his loved pets. "Lalaith and Fehinte?"

"Yes, Lalaith and Fehinte are waiting for you," Khílya whispered. "And when you go home they will nuzzle you with their trunks." She massaged his cheek with the back of her hand. "And they will gently wrestle you with their long tusks, and then they will lift you up and put you on their backs. Do you know where they will take you?" Legolas smiled softly.

"Nay," Legolas muttered, shifting deeper into his mother's embrace. "Where?" Khílya smiled down at her son.

"They will take you to your favorite tree."

"The big one with the deep knothole?" Legolas asked, smiling at the memory.

"Yes, the one where you found Guithar," Khílya whispered. Guithar was a baby raccoon Legolas had found near dead in the knothole. The prince had saved his life, revealing how much of his mother's heart he had. It had remained Legolas' favorite tree ever since, for it had given him a wonderful animal friend that he loved dearly.

"What will I do when I get to the tree?" Legolas asked sleepily, his eyes closing again as his mother formed a dream for him.

"You will climb it, _Vynithel_," Khílya murmured, beginning to rock her son gently. "Climb it to the very top. The squirrels will come with you. When you get to the top, you will see all of the forest, right in front of you. You will be able to see the birds and the deer, and the stars." Legolas smiled and sighed lightly as he let go into sleep. Khílya kissed his brow softly.

"Nana?" Legolas suddenly asked.

"Yes, _ion-nîn_?" Khílya asked gently.

"You forgot something," the child whispered.

"What did I forget, little one?"

"You and Ada will be there with me," Legolas said, at last falling into a light sleep. Khílya felt her eyes sting and the tears run down her cheeks. The truth was, she was not expecting to live through this ordeal. Secretly, she was funneling her strength into the little body in her arms, keeping him alive and protecting him from the poisonous fumes and the evil in the air. She knew that if her son found out, he would ask her to stop giving him her strength, but she wouldn't, even if he asked her to. She was too intent on keeping his spirit and body alive.

Softly, Khílya began singing an elvish lullaby. Her voice was sweet and silky, despite the hoarse air and how it was choking her lungs. Elves' voices were like no other, and hers was one of the sweetest ever heard. She raised the song in volume. It lilted around the air, worming through the raucous laughter of the orcs. The slaves lifted their heads and listened intently to the smooth and soothing lyrics. The laughter of the orcs stopped, and they only heard one syllable of the beautiful song before they roared and clapped their hands over their ears.

"Silence, slave!" an orc thundered, standing and stepping closer to the female elf. He was stronger than the rest and the song did not weaken him like it did the others. To him it was only a terrible noise. The other slaves skittered fearfully away as he approached, their chains clanking together loudly. The orc raised a gnarled hand and brought it down across the elven maiden's head, sending her toppling. Legolas tumbled out of his mother's arms and was instantly awake. He sat up and gazed in horror as the orc drew out a black dagger, coated in poison, and raised it above its head.

"_Nana_!" Legolas screamed, lifting a hand, reaching for his mother as the dagger descended, its point flashing greedily in the lightning. Khílya barely made any noise as the dagger, the sharp metal driving into her side, impaled her. She felt the poison rush through her blood and felt suddenly hot, as if her blood was boiling over an open fire. She began to tremble uncontrollably. All sounds became muffled, from the orc's evil laughter to Legolas' anguished cries.

"No! Nana!" Legolas shouted, scrambling for the fallen form of his mother. He turned her over onto her back and held her head between his slender hands, tears running down his cheeks. His body shook with gigantic sobs. The orc above them spat at the elfling and turned away with a satisfied grunt. Legolas didn't hear him go, nor did he care. He watched as his mother's eyes, mirroring his own, glazed over and closed, hiding their dimmed light from him. Her blood ran over his palms, staining both his skin and heart.

"No, Nana," Legolas sobbed, his voice tight and choked. "Don't leave me, Nana. Please don't leave me alone here. No. _No._" He rested his head against her chest, hearing the usual strong elven heartbeat fade and slow. The poison was slowly dragging her into darkness. The bluish glow around her dimmed, and her form became darker by the second.

"Nana, _Saes. Guitrs-lhkïj nóchse nuiët nenl. Bíetin juoáe huiteĉ líelth. Saes._ Please. Do not give in to darkness. Hold onto the light. Please." Legolas begged for her to live. She did not heed his prayers, nor did the gods. He held onto her as she steadily grew colder, darker, as her life ebbed from her body just beneath his fingertips. He felt utterly helpless at her side, being forced to watch as she left him.

"_Nî sésute kyũer hén_, Naneth," Legolas murmured as he felt her last breath leaving her. "I love you, Mother." He sniffed mournfully. A slight breeze wafted around his head, stirring his golden hair. He leaned down and kissed his mother's brow. As he did, Khílya murmured one last thing:

"_Nî sésute kyũer hén nuë_, Vynithel," Khílya whispered, her voice as soft and soothing as the light breeze that stirred her son's hair. "I love you too, _Vynithel_." Legolas' eyes filled with tears again, and he collapsed against his mother's body, sobbing uncontrollably. Khílya's light faded and died, leaving a darkness where there once had been light. Legolas felt his heart wrench horribly as he saw the light leave his mother's body, and he knew that the light had left his life forever. Quietly, as he pressed his face against his mother's chest, he began to sing the elvish lullaby his mother had left unfinished. The slaves, their own hearts stinging from the sight in front of them, took up the tune, even though they did not know the words. Gently, the sound of the lullaby lifted above the evil of the land and they all found relief in its depths. The orcs, for the second time that night, heard the lovely sound, but hated it.

"I said silence!" the burly orc came back and struck the small elfling hunched over his mother's body. Legolas collapsed against the ground, gasping in unuttered sobs. But still he kept singing the lullaby. The orc kicked him in the ribs.

"You want to join that wench?" the horrid creature growled, pointing to Khílya's dead figure. "Keep up that screeching and you will." Legolas' lilting tune halted. The orc snarled in satisfaction. Releasing one last kick upon the little elf, he turned and walked back to the campfire. But he never made it there.

The orc's footsteps were abruptly stopped as he fell to the ground with a shriek, an arrow embedded in his throat. He grasped the shaft in his malformed fingers, but didn't manage to pull the arrow free before he died. The orcs around the fire all leaped to their feet, taking up their axes or scimitars. They turned towards the intrusion. Five elves upon their mounts rushed from the trees, their bows drawn, already firing a volley of arrows and felling many of the cruel beasts in front of them. One elf broke away from the battle and galloped for the slaves. The figure upon the horse's back jumped from the mount and landed at a crouch gracefully. He rushed immediately to the slaves and peered at their faces quickly, searching. Suddenly he saw Legolas hunched over the fallen elf maiden, shaking with new sobs. The warrior fell to his knees beside the distraught elfling, reaching out slowly for him.

"Ada!" Legolas cried, leaping into his father's arms. Thranduil wrapped his arms around the slim body in his grasp and buried his face into his son's golden hair. He had thought he had lost the little elfling. Legolas began to shake furiously, hiding his face in his father's tunic. Tears slid from his clenched eyes.

"Ada…It's Nana," he whispered. "She…she's…" 

"It's all right, _Vynithel_, it's all right," Thranduil soothed, stroking Legolas' blond hair. "I'm here." He had already known what had happened to his wife before the prince had tried to tell him. The glow was gone from her body. He knew she was gone.

"It's all my fault," Legolas whimpered. "It's my fault she's gone."

"Do not say such a thing, _ion-nîn_," Thranduil said firmly. "It was not your fault."

"It was," Legolas whispered, but his voice was too quiet for even Thranduil's keen ears to hear.

Tears fell from Thranduil's eyes, falling to Legolas' hair. He held his son protectively, his shoulders shaking with the effort to remain quiet as he sobbed in distress. He rocked them gently back and forth. Soon he scooped Legolas up into his arms and walked back to the horse, where he sat his son upon its back. The prince gripped its mane in his small hands. Tearstains ran down his face, but his features were set grimly. Thranduil clasped one of the slender hands in his own and kissed its knuckles before walking swiftly to one of the guards.

Legolas waited for his father upon the horse's back. Thranduil talked hurriedly to the guard, then climbed up onto the horse behind his son. The guards gently gathered up Khílya's body while the rest released the slaves. The captain of the guards, Jenath, climbed upon his own mount and followed Thranduil back into the forest. The rest would catch up. He stayed silent as he followed his king, though he could distinctly hear the young prince's sniffles, and his heart throbbed in sympathy. It was a large blow the kingdom and its rulers had paid tonight with the death of their queen. It would take time to mend, but none would ever be the same.

Again, hoped you liked it, and I will gladly accept reviews! Copperfang


	2. Estel

A/N: Second chapter, same day. Sorry, I'm just really bored at the moment. So...I'll probably be updating a lot. Yea.

Here we go to Estel. Yay! I hope you like this chapter, too.

Disclaimer: (to lawyers): Go away! Nothing recognizable is owned by me! Lawyers: Eerg!

ch. 2:

Estel struggled to keep in his giggles as he crept silently down the hall in his bare feet. The polished marble felt cold underneath his feet, but he paid it no mind as he took a right turn and headed for the kitchens. Most of the place was asleep, but Estel knew from experience that even the slightest sound would give him away. It was hard creeping around keen elven ears.

Unfortunately, Estel was not an elf, so creeping around them was harder. He was not as light or agile as them and tended to be a bit clumsy, but that would only be expected from a five year old boy, and besides, he was more graceful than any other humans his age.

Estel slowed his steps when he approached Lord Elrond's room. It was dark inside, but the door was slightly ajar. Estel would have to be very careful going by. Elrond had especially good hearing. As the young boy crept by, he peered inside. He saw the silhouette of the elven lord on the bed, motionless. Estel smiled and quickly hurried away.

Soon he reached the kitchens. It was dark, but Estel snatched a lit candle resting on a nearby table and pushed the door open. He walked up to the counter on silent feet and stood on his toes. His eyes swept the countertop for any snacks. Finally he saw the small stash of biscuits resting near the center of the counter. The cooks normally left a plate or two of food out to cool overnight and be ready by morning. Smiling, Estel placed the candle on the counter and reached over, but his short arm couldn't reach the plate of biscuits. He tried to stand taller, his brow furrowing in frustration.

A cool hand suddenly grasped the boy's wrist, stopping his movements. Estel found himself face to face with Elladan, Lord Elrond's son, clutching his wrist and smiling. From behind came Elrohir, his identical twin, also grinning.

"What are you doing, Estel?" Elladan asked, the kind grin never leaving his face. The boy pulled his hand back and pointed to the plate of biscuits wordlessly. Elrohir smiled widely.

"You know you're not supposed to be touching the biscuits, Estel," he whispered warningly. "Ada told you not to." Estel pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

"But I'm hungry," he replied quietly. "And I made it past Ada's room, why can I not have a biscuit to reward myself?" Elrohir smiled and glanced at his twin brother.

"Elladan, maybe we should let him have one," he whispered. "You know how hard it is to get by Ada's door."

"Aye, I do," Elladan replied. He knelt down next to the small human boy. "If we get to have one too, we won't send you to bed." Estel grinned and nodded. Elrohir grabbed the plate and turned on his heel as Elladan scooped up Estel.

"We best return to our rooms," he said. "It's too much of a risk if we get caught in here."

"You already have been," a voice said, and an elven maiden appeared in the doorway, blocking their path. Ayeirn halted abruptly in surprise.

"Arwen!" Elrohir exclaimed, bumping roughly into his twin. "What are you doing here?" Their older sister glared at them, cocking her head.

"The question is, what are you doing here, and with a hostage five year old?" she asked, glancing at Estel cuddled in Elladan's arms.

"I'm not a hostage, Arwen," Estel piped up. "I came here all by myself."

"I'm sure you did, little one," Arwen murmured, her voice softening. She looked back up at her brothers. "Where are you headed with the biscuits?"

"Midnight snack," Elrohir replied carelessly, shrugging. "Want to join us? I'm sure there's enough."

"Yes, please come with us, sister Arwen," Estel chirruped, slipping from Elladan's arms and grabbing her hand. "I would like you to." Arwen smiled down at the energetic boy. She loved him dearly, even if he was not of their own race. Estel's village had been burned only nine months ago, his parents slain by orcs. Elladan and Elrohir had found the boy in a collapsed building, trapped beneath a pile of rubble. They had kindly brought the boy to their own home, where Lord Elrond nursed him back to health. Since Estel had had nowhere else to go, Elrond had allowed him to stay with them, accepting him as a part of their family. Estel now called Elrond his father and his offspring siblings.

"Alright, I will," she whispered. "But you need to be quiet. Who knows what Ceilon will do to us if he finds us with these biscuits?" Ceilon was the head cook. Estel giggled as he thought of it.

"He'll put us in the oven," the boy laughed, his eyes sparkling with merriment. "He told me himself." Arwen smiled as Elrohir chuckled.

"I don't doubt that," he said. "Now quickly, before Ada wakes." The four of them crept back to Estel's room, for it was the closest, and settled beside the fire. They placed the plate in the middle of them and each fed off of the precious stash of pastries.

"They're a bit dry, don't you think, Elrohir?" Elladan asked his twin seated next to him. Elrohir ran his tongue around his mouth. He soon nodded.

"Yes. We need some drink to go along with it. What do you say, El?"

"I would say so, Ro," Elladan replied, also nodding. Arwen giggled past a full mouth. The twins never ceased to prod at her patience with their 'humble' ways toward each other.

"You two drive me crazy," she laughed. Elladan groaned.

"What did we do _now_, dear sister?" he asked, smiling. Arwen simply shook her head. Estel grinned, his mouth covered with biscuit crumbs. He placed his half-eaten biscuit on the floor and stretched his arms above his head, yawning. Arwen noticed how tired her foster brother was and scooped him into her lap. He snuggled against her side and closed his eyes. The twins and she continued to eat their filched food and talked about careless matters by the fire, enjoying its warmth.

"I wonder what Ada will do to us when Ceilon reports missing biscuits," Ro whispered thoughtfully. Arwen grinned.

"He'll _help_ Ceilon put us in the oven," she replied, laughing.

"I'm not sure, I don't think I taste all that good," El said from his spot by the fire. He leaned back on a pillow and rested his head in his hand. His eyes were half-closed in drowsiness. Ro suddenly laughed.

"No, believe me, you don't," he said. Elladan looked over at his younger twin.

"How would you know?" he asked indignantly. Elrohir struggled to speak past his giggles.

"Be-because I bit you once, remember?" he laughed. Arwen looked at them in surprise.

"You _bit_ him?" she asked, keeping her voice low so she didn't wake the sleeping child in her arms. Ro nodded, still smiling. Elladan seemed confused, but then remembrance flashed over his face.

"I remember that!" he exclaimed. Suddenly he glared at his younger brother. "It was during a spar, I believe. You bit me when I knocked the weapon out of your hands." Arwen laughed, rocking back.

"How old were you?" she asked. "Wait, don't tell me. This happened just last week."

"No!" the twins both exclaimed in unison, glowering at her.

"We were mere elflings," Ro said, leaning over and grabbing another biscuit from the plate. "Nearly…seventeen, I'd say."

"That's pretty old to be biting someone, Elrohir," Arwen said.

"No it's not," Ro replied coolly, brushing the crumbs from his hands. "That's about…five or six years old by human time. About Estel's age."

"He even has more sense than you at this age," Arwen teased. "You don't see him biting anyone, do you?" Ro rolled his eyes, leaning down next to his twin and letting their foreheads barely touch. El was already asleep, his eyes dull and unfocused as he dreamt. Elrohir soon joined his brother in the land of dreams. Arwen sighed and moved the plate aside. She curled up with Estel still in her arms against her two younger siblings and allowed herself to slip into sleep.

The door slowly swung open on silent hinges, revealing the sharp form behind it. The figure stepped into the room, quiet and swift as the passing breeze, and gazed fondly at the three elves and boy slumbering on the floor by the fire. He chuckled warmly as he spotted the bare biscuit plate resting in their midst. Lord Elrond, awakened by the quiet conversation that had taken place, blew out the candle on the table. He covered each of the young ones with blankets, then passed from the room once more, leaving no other sign that he had even been there.

:Done:

Aww...Please R&R! It's my first fic on this site! I need encouragement!


	3. Arrival of the prince

"Ada, what's going on?" Elladan asked the next morning at breakfast. He glanced at the servants rushing by with arms full of blankets and other such supplies. The place was unusually busy at this hour. Lord Elrond looked up from the head of the table, where he was concentrating on his food.

Wiping his hands on his cloth napkin, Elrond said:

"We are expecting company later today," he reported in his deep voice, picking up his fork once more. "At near sundown."

"Who, Ada?" Estel squeaked from the other end of the large mahogany table. He swung his legs in the large chair and leaned forward to try and see his foster father's face. Elrond smiled benignly in the little boy's direction.

"Royalty from Mirkwood," he replied, the answer aimed at everyone seated around him, for he could tell by their faces that they all had the same question.

"The king?" Arwen asked.

"No, the prince," Elrond said. "As well as the chief advisor."

"Why could not the king come?" Elladan questioned. "And if the chief advisor is to be present, why is the prince coming as well?"

"The king has duties in his own realm that he must see to," Elrond informed his inquisitive children. "He normally would have come, but the matters are too pressing. As for the prince, the king has insisted that he go. It seems Prince Legolas has been…slightly ill at heart lately, due to the memory of a tragic event, and King Thranduil thinks spending some time away from their realm would do him some good."

"What tragic event, Ada?" Estel asked. He had stopped eating and was leaning over his plate, eager for news. Elrond turned his gaze upon the boy and his eyes softened.

"He lost his nana, Estel," the elven lord replied quietly, "at the hands of orcs." Estel's eyes grew large. He knew what it was like to lose parents; he had lost his own almost a year ago. The pain was still as fresh as ever, for he still had nightmares about the terrible event.

"But what about his ada?" the small boy asked. "He still has his ada, doesn't he?" Elrond lowered his eyes.

"Legolas' ada does not have time or love to spare for his only child," the lord whispered. "He spends all of his time working on the matters of the kingdom. Their relationship is…awkward, it has been ever since the queen's death. He actually seems to look for matters that need handling simply so he will not be alone with his son." Estel stared at his plate of food, suddenly not hungry anymore. He could imagine losing a mother, but then having a father who shunned you was probably even worse than losing him as well. He felt an unexplainable amount of pity for this elven prince who he had never even met.

"Ada, may I be excused?" Estel asked quietly, so much that a normal human might not have heard him, yet elven hearing could clearly hear it. All eyes around the table turned to him, filled with concern.

"What is the matter, Estel?" Elladan asked, setting down his fork and gazing at his foster brother.

"I…I'm not hungry anymore," the child replied. His elven siblings turned to look at their father, who nodded mutely. Estel pushed his chair from the table and slid from the seat. They all saw his curly brown head bobbing from the room, his bare feet barely audible. They waited until he was definitely out of earshot before they began speaking.

"What do you think happened?" Elrohir asked, gazing seriously at his father. "Did we awaken some memories?"

"I do not believe what I saw in his eyes was remembrance," Elrond mused, watching the doorway the young human had left through. "I think it was pity."

"Estel feels sorry for the prince?" Arwen asked curiously. "But he has never even met him!"

"That does not mean he cannot feel sympathy for him," Elladan pointed out, lifting his fork and taking a bite of his food. "He could have constructed how he must think the prince is faring with a dead mother and a negative father."

"But we've lost a mother too," Elrohir whispered from across his twin. It was true. She had died also at the hands of orcs, after being brutally beaten and raped. The children of Elrond shuddered as they remembered how horrible she had looked when they had found her.

"Yes, you have, but I do not spend all my time ignoring you," Lord Elrond replied coolly. "You still have me."

"Yes we do, Ada, and we are grateful for that," Arwen murmured, nodding her head in her father's direction. The twins voiced their agreement. Elrond stood and kissed each of his children on the brow.

"Let us make Prince Legolas feel welcome," Elrond said, gathering his robes and striding from the hall. The remaining elves at the table silently finished their meals and cleaned the plates from the tabletop, handing them over to the servants. They walked outside together, intending to find Estel.

They found him sitting on the lowest branch of an oak, swinging his legs and humming a nonsense tune that they didn't recognize.

"Estel?" Arwen called, placing a hand on the rough bark of the tree. The boy peered down at them and smiled.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to come horseback riding with us?" Elrohir asked, stepping beneath the little boy's branch and gazing up at the small round face. There was a moment of silence, where they all waited for an answer. Elladan gave a shout of surprise as Estel leaped into his arms and slid to the ground.

"By the gods!" El exclaimed, putting a hand to his heart as if he could slow it down by massaging it. "Don't do that,Estel!"

"He surprised you,El!" Ro laughed. The twins were mostly known for trying to frighten each other, and most attempts on each other were usually unsuccessful. Elladan crossed his arms and glared at his identical brother.

"He…did not," Elladan denied. "He only…" He trailed off as he tried to find something to say.

"Can't think of anything?" Ro giggled. "I think you are losing your touch. Maybe next time we get in trouble I'll handle coming up with a good excuse."

"Sure."

"Oh, hush you two and let's get to the stables," Arwen scolded her younger brothers, scooping Estel into her arms. She turned on her heel and stalked away while the twins followed, making faces at her back and mocking her in squeaky voices too quiet to be heard by even her keen elven ears.Estel, looking back over her shoulder, giggled and covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hold back the laughs his brothers were ensuing. Arwen of course heard Estel's chortles, and knowing the cause must be the twins, spun around and caught them in the act before they could hide it beneath emotionless masks. She glowered at them.

As soon as she turned back around the twins then imitated her glare, exaggerating it and lifting their eyebrows much too high and wrinkling their noses. This only made Estel giggle more, and Arwen soon placed the child upon the ground and pelted after the twins, shouting curses at them in Elvish. El and Ro laughed all the way to the stables, their angry sister on their heels, even though she was in a dress. Estel trailed after them, yelling for them to wait up. His short legs could not match the long strides of the elves. They streaked across the garden, two identical elves and one bristling elven maiden, followed by a small five year old boy in their wake. Such was the sight that met Lord Elrond as he gazed out of his window and down into the garden. He smiled at his childrens' antics and shook his head.

"Will they ever be civilized?" he asked himself, turning away from the window with a chuckle.

Estel was puffing by the time he caught up with the three elves, who were standing outside the stables. Elladan and Elrohir stood side by side, innocent looks upon their faces, but their act did not fool Arwen, whose normally fair face was flushed from the run and smooth hair disheveled. She was talking sternly with her brothers, who denied everything with hidden smiles and silent laughs.

Estel ignored the lecture and went to his pony, Veni, grabbing a handful of oats and holding it out under her velvety nose. She snuffled happily and began chewing on the treats settled in the bowl of his palm. Estel watched silently as Arwen continued to lecture her brothers, a trait she had inherited from her father. Soon Estel went to his older sister and plucked at her dress.

"Arwen," he said quietly. "May we go now?"

Elladan and Elrohir laughed and went to their own mounts before their sister could begin her talk again. Luckily for them, she only went to her own horse and called him from the stable. The three elves leapt gracefully onto the backs of their horses, gripping the manes and waiting patiently for Estel, who soon trotted out on the back of his small pony. He too rode out without a saddle, for Elvish was like a second language for him, and that was what the mounts responded to.

Arwen and the twins set their horses at a light trot so Veni could keep up. The mounts clearly enjoyed their time out of the stables, and picked up the pace. Soon all four were sprinting down the forest path. Veni stayed close beside the horses, even though her legs were small. She was stubborn as a mule and was determined to win the race. Estel leaned over her neck, loving the feel of the fast winds and the fevered speeds. He loved being with his adopted family like this, outside and being free. The elves racing him felt the same way, and, giggling, they bolted away.

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"Not as funny as you falling off the horse, Elladan," Arwen laughed. Her brother flushed at the memory, rubbing his lower back where a root had jabbed him from his fall.

"It wasn't my fault she reared when she saw that snake," he retorted, scowling at his still chortling sister. Estel smiled from his place in front of Elrohir. Veni followed behind his horse, her head bent in exhaustion. It had been a tiring day for all of them, and they all wished to return home. They had explored the surrounding forests all day long. It was now twilight, near dinner. Arwen knew that Prince Legolas would be here soon. Elrond would not be happy if they missed his arrival. She pressed her horse into a light trot, and the twins behind her did the same. They came to the stables and quickly put their mounts into the confined spaces, where they set to work munching down on hay and oats. The four of them crept into the house silently and came to the dining room. No one was there, so, emboldened, they made their way more carelessly down the hall. That was how Lord Elrond caught them.

"There you are," he said, coming from his bedroom. His children halted and turned to face him. "Prince Legolas should be arriving any minute. Go wash yourselves up."

"Yes, Ada," they all replied in monotonous unison, walking to their own rooms and shutting the doors behind them. Elrond smiled faintly to himself and turned on his heel, heading down the passageway to the entrance hall. He would wait there and greet the ones who were coming.

Estel stood on his toes in his own room to reach the water basin resting on the high table. He reached over and cleaned the mud and dirt from his arms carefully. He then put on a new tunic and leggings, tossing the dirtied ones in the basket. He stepped out onto the balcony and leaped lightly up on the thick railing. He swung his legs out into the open air and sat watching the trees below him. He tracked a bird as it flapped above the leaves.

Estel knew he was not allowed to be sitting upon the balcony railing. Elrond had told him many times before, but it was the boy's favorite place to sit. He enjoyed the open air.

Still watching his bird, Estel hardly heard the sound of hoof beats below the trees. He rose into a crouch and peered through the foliage. He almost did not see the woodland elves, for they were dressed in dark colors that matched the trees and plants around them, allowing them to blend perfectly with their surroundings, and rode on horses with coats the same color as bark. Estel spotted a tall, noble elf at the front of the line, his dirty blond hair set in braids tucked behind his ears. He wore a simple green tunic and brown leather armor. A rapier was latched at his side and two knives on the opposite hip. He sat straight and held an aura of dignity about him.

Behind him followed a much younger elf, looking to be in his early twenties. Like the first elf, his hair was set in warrior braids tucked behind his gracefully pointed ears, but his locks were a lighter blond, seeming to be made from the sunshine. Even from above, Estel could see the elf's light blue eyes that looked like a sliver of the sky. A quiver was strapped to his back, filled with expertly fletched arrows, and a longbow was slung over his shoulder. Two long knives were sheathed on his back, next to the quiver. A party of other elves followed the first two, their own assortment of weapons by their sides. Estel somehow knew that the party below him was their guests.

Leaping gracefully from the railing, Estel sprinted to the door and flung it open. He knocked on his elven siblings' doors quickly.

"Prince Legolas is here!" Devern explained breathlessly. "We must go now!" They all heard Lord Elrond's deep call echo from the entrance hall. They ran hurriedly to the hall, slowing to a dignified walk so as not to be caught running in the palace. They arrived just as Lord Elrond was escorting the group of woodland elves through the door.

"Oh," Elrond said, stopping short and interrupting his own sentence. "Children, this is Calen, the chief advisor of Mirkwood, and its Prince, Legolas Greenleaf. Your highness, these are my children, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen and Estel."

"A human?" Calen asked, quirking an eyebrow at the boy.

"We have adopted him," Elrond explained shortly. "His village and parents were destroyed barely a year ago."

"How sad…" Calen muttered, not seeming sorry at all. Legolas stood straight and silent behind the two older elves, gazing in turn at each of the children. Estel felt his breath hitch when the prince set his cool blue eyes upon him. Being who he was, Estel had realized before that he was an excellent judge of character. He found he could see what people were feeling by looking into their eyes and scanning through the layers of their years. Looking into Legolas' eyes, Estel saw things that the prince had meant to keep hidden from everyone but himself. Outside was a wall of emotionless and stoic reserve that was kept blank. Yet digging deeper, the five year old boy saw pain, endless pain and sorrow that marked his very early years and left a scar through the rest that could never be healed. He saw the signs of a suffering heart and soul that had been injured long before but had never been properly cared for.

All these signs disappeared when Legolas looked away again. Estel watched as the three elves stepped past them and made their way down the hall in the direction they had been intending to go. They entered Elrond's study and disappeared from sight. The four siblings stood in silence for a moment.

"Quiet one, that Legolas," Elrohir commented in a low voice.

"He's hurting," Estel whispered quietly, but the small sentence was obviously heard by the other three elves.

"What do you mean, Estel?" Arwen asked softly, looking tenderly down at the boy.

"His heart is hurting."

"How can you tell?" Elladan asked curiously, leaning over to meet his foster brother's eye. He never did.

"I…I can see it."

"How?"

"I don't know, I just can."

Estel stalked off without another word. He left the house and entered the trees. The three elves gazed after him, baffled by what they had just heard. Elladan started to step forward, but his twin flung out an arm to catch his chest, stopping him in mid-stride.

"Let him go, brother," Elrohir whispered. "He does not seem to want any company at the moment." Elladan stared at the path the boy had disappeared down and nodded reluctantly. They turned and walked away slowly, not seeming to want to leave.

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Legolas has arrived! Hee...


	4. Getting to know the patient

Yay! More reviews! -squee-

A/N: if there's any confusion regarding the creature called a "centii", I made them up, just to let you know. And they're kind of like an oliphaunt, except smaller and gentler. Just to let you know. And Legolas is meant to have them as pets. Alright, if there's any more confusion, tell me, and I will answer them...most of the time. As long as I'm not confused myself...

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**Tinnuial: **Thank you for your review! Well, here's another chapter. I might be updating frequently. Ya see, I have no life...but let's not get into that. I hope you like this chapter!

**pris: **I'm glad you like it! And this is where they start talking to each other. Yay! Thanx for the review!

**sielge: **I will most definitely finish it! I can't leave everyone hanging, can I? Thank you for your review! I'm glad you find it interesting!

**hanci: **I'm glad you like this! You'll find out how Legolas feels about humans in this chapter. And yes, children are rather impulsive at times and tend to do things others will not...(my five year old brother gave my mom the scare of her life when he went up to a total stranger to ask for a quarter). I know _I _would never do that. lol I hope you continue reading!

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Disclaimer: Will the lawyers leave me in peace! I don't own _anything_ that Tolkien created! I promise! -puts hand over heart and the other over copy of The Bible-

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ch. 4

Legolas sighed and rubbed his temples as he entered the room reserved for him. It had been a tiring night, talking of politics and other things. Legolas found this part of royalty one of the more tedious tasks, yet it was necessary all the same. Mostly it was Calen making the decisions, not he himself, so he did not know why he had to be present. It was dull sitting there, speaking of the costs of certain trades. Legolas had hardly listened, his mind instead in the forests of his own home. He had felt trapped and suffocated in Lord Elrond's room. His heart lay in the open air, under the wide expanse of the night sky, not in a marble room with dwarven furnishings (Legolas had no idea who in their right mind would favor such a style except for the dwarves themselves). He was relieved when Elrond finally dismissed them. Legolas was not sure what time it was, but the moon was high in the sky now.

The prince stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool air deeply. This is where he wanted to be. He looked up at the stars surrounded by the dark blue, small glowing ships in the gigantic sea. He knew his mother's star had been gone from the sea many years ago. Elves' souls were connected to the stars, and when one died, a star would blink out entirely, the presence of both the star and elf gone forever. That thought did Legolas' already wounded heart no good.

He was still nursing the injuries of his mother's death, even after the thousands of years that had passed. They had never completely healed, though their pain had faded somewhat. Thranduil had helped dress them in the beginning, but soon the elven king and the prince grew distant, and the job was never finished. Legolas loved his father. He just wished he could see if Thranduil thought the same about his son.

Legolas suddenly remembered that small boy today, Estel. Elrond had said something about adoption, that Estel had lost his parents. The elven prince remembered the strange openness of the child's gaze boring into his own. Legolas had been breached in those few moments when their gazes had clashed. That small boy had been able to see things that no one else had ever seen in thousands of years. Legolas could tell. He had felt the light brush of a consciousness against his, saw the pity in Estel's eyes. He knew that Estel had seen his pain, the very thing he held beneath layers of reserve for no one to view. The layers were ripped off and the boy had seen Legolas' bare heart and soul in the light. The thought that someone Legolas had never even met before could somehow have the power to simply burrow through his carefully built barriers in only moments when others had not been able to in the course of years sent a shiver down the prince's spine.

And the fact that he was human and had been able to see his soul was unnerving, to say the least. Legolas had traveled much, but he had never really come in contact with other humans very often. He chose to stay away from those of another race, wary of the differences between them. He'd almost visibly flinched when he clapped eyes on the small human boy, surprise at the little one's presence mingling with confusion, until the elven lord had explained why Estel was there. He was not scared of the young being, only cautious, never having dealt with a human before, even if this one was still only a child.

Forgetting formality and rules, Legolas jumped gracefully onto the balcony railing in one smooth movement. He crossed his legs and stared up at the night sky, listening to the night creatures sing and the trees converse with the wind. He had always favored such places to sit, whether it be on a railing or windowsill, as long as the sky and outside was in view. Lost in his own thoughts, he did not hear the door slowly creak open or see the tiny form step into the room behind him.

Estel crept silently into the room, his eyes scanning the furniture and surroundings before he placed the basin of new washing water on the table. The water sloshed softly within the confines of the bowl. He set it in the center of the table, where it belonged, and looked towards the bed, only to find it empty. He wondered where the prince was at this hour.

Then he saw the lithe form sitting cross-legged on the balcony railing, the fair face tilted toward the star studded sky. Legolas sat silently and still, his hands placed lightly upon his knees, the golden tresses of his hair falling down his back and brushing his shoulders. His body was swathed in a gentle bluish glow in the darkness, wearing the light of all that were of his race surrounded by. The light blue of his eyes were darkened and reflected the glow of the stars. Estel crept cautiously forward, not wishing to startle the elf. He said in a voice low and soft, one that would not be heard by any other man:

"You like sitting on the railing too?"

Legolas gave a sudden start and his head whipped around to face the intrusion. He swung around in his seat and leaped from the railing, his booted feet landing silently on the stone of the balcony. He did not speak, only stared at the small boy in what obviously meant: _what are __you doing here?_

Estel smiled, choosing to ignore the glare aimed his way. He came out onto the balcony (Legolas resisting the urge to back away) and jumped up onto the stone railing, meeting the prince's eyes.

"It's alright. I won't tell. I like to sit here too, though my ada tells me not to."

Legolas didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to. He stared into the silver eyes that watched him carefully, already prodding at the layers of his reserve. He evaded the probe by returning his gaze to the sky. Estel, knowing a snub when it was given, followed the elf's lead. He looked up at the stars.

"How far is Mirkwood?" he asked, wanting to get the elven prince to speak.

"A five day ride," Legolas responded, talking at last. Estel found that he liked the voice of the elf. It was musical and light, not like the deep sound that Elrond made when he spoke. Estel wondered how beautiful it would sound if the prince were to sing. He tried to imagine the lilting voice of the other in song.

"Did you enjoy the ride over here?" Estel asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"It was pleasant, though uneventful."

Legolas was choosing the shortest answers possible. Estel cocked his head.

"Do you like riding horses?"

"Yes."

The small boy fell silent. The silence grew until it became uncomfortable. Estel finally spoke again.

"Are you sad?"

Legolas turned surprised eyes back to the inquisitive face peering at him. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned. Estel shrugged carelessly.

"You seem sad," he answered, as if he were answering to a babe's question of 'why is the sky blue?'

"I'm not sad, no," Legolas said.

"You seem sad to me," Estel whispered. Legolas lowered his gaze to the ground. He did not speak for a long time. When he did, his voice was low.

"Does Lord Elrond know you are still awake?"

Estel knew the prince was silently asking for him to leave, but he did not take it personally. He instead shook his head and jumped from the railing.

"Goodnight."

He walked away as Legolas uttered his own farewell. He shut the door behind him and padded quietly down to his own room. Before he got there, a door to his right opened and Elrohir's head appeared.

"What are you still doing up?" the elf asked him.

"I was refilling Prince Legolas' water basin," Estel answered with a shrug. Ro's eyes widened.

"You went into the prince's room?" he asked, astonished. "Did Ada not tell you not to?"

"It's alright," Estel said, inching his way past his older elven sibling and making his way back down the hall in the direction he had been going. He entered his own room before Elrohir could call him back. As he shut the door and crawled under the sheets of his bed, he thought of his short conversation with the prince. Legolas seemed empty of emotion, though Estel knew the elf did have them. All beings had emotion, especially elves, who felt more strongly than humans.

Pain should never be kept secret. He remembered Elrond telling him such a thing long ago. Estel had hidden in the woods to cry, still at a shock from his parents' death. Elrond had found him sitting on the bank of the creek and comforted him. He said that pain like his was natural and should never be hidden from anyone. Pain, in fact, should be shown, for that was how it died. If it were kept enclosed, it would only grow.

Estel knew Legolas did not want to show his pain, but the boy would somehow have to coax it out into the open. He wasn't sure how he would exactly do such a thing, but for a five year old, anything was possible.

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Yup, there's the "I can do anything" feeling we all experienced at one time. I know _I _felt it. Anyone else?

Oh, and all my reviewers get doughnuts for being so nice! Just tell me what kind you want! lol. Reviews plz! I'll be looking for some! And you get a doughnut if you do! -Copperfang


	5. A small stroll

I gots more reviews! Yay! Thank you thank you thank you! muah

A/N: Alrighty, nice long chapter for ya! I hope you like it!

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**ghostlyfacade:** Why, thank you very much! I'm glad you like it! Oh, and a chocolate doughnut it is! I myself like them. You'll get more where that came from if you keep reviewing!

**Gemini969: **As you requested, here's the next update! I hope I didn't take too long! lol

**Hippielover459: **Luv your penname! lol Anywho, that is the most enthusiastic review I've gotten so far! Thank you! I'm glad you like it. Here's the next chapter!

**IwishChan: **Yes, poor Legolas. And probably, yea, Estel will understand, him having lost parents too. Thank you for your review, and I hope you keep reading!

**lindahoyland: **Oh, God! I'm sorry, I had no idea! But I could change the title of my story if you'd like. I just don't know what to call it. And I'm not sure if the readers would be able to follow it if I did. But if it makes you feel better, I can, if you give me title suggestions. btw, thank you for the review, and I'm glad you like my story!

**kkcnbay5: **I'm glad you like my story! And I'm also glad that you decided that my story was good enough to review to when you usually don't. Thank you! I hope you keep reading!

**Just passing by:** Yes, I know all of those facts already, but thank you for the suggestions! I know that Aragorn lost his father when he was two, and that his mother brought him to Rivendell, thinking he would be safe there, and passed away not long after. And I also realize that Arwen is really younger. Thanx for telling me, though. But, as I said in the beginning, this was originally my own piece, and I decided to alter it to make it into a fanfic. I wanted to keep a few things, otherwise it would have changed the plot dramatically, so yea. And besides, it wouldn't be called "fanfiction" if it was all strictly by the book, would it? -grin- Thanx again, though, and I hope you keep reading!

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Yea, I see a few people goin' "poor Legolas!" Oh-ho, peeps, you don't even know the half of it. Unfortunately for our favorite elven prince, it will only get worse before it gets better. Yes, he might be a bit OOC in the future, but I like 'im! -huggles Legolas tightly- So, ah, read on, and you will discover the real depth of his grief...(not in this chapter, just in the story ahead)

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ch.5

Estel wiped his face off on the towel nearby, drying the water from his skin. He leaped down from the chair. He glanced at the window to see the weather outside. It was sunny outside, and warm. It was perfect for exploring and other things. He opened the door to his room and stepped out, only to bump into someone. He paced back a step and gazed up at whomever he had bumped into.

"Sorry," he murmured. Legolas nodded and began walking again. Estel closed his door behind him and ran to catch up. He matched his pace to that of the long strides of the elven prince.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," Legolas answered briefly.

"May I come?" Estel asked innocently, slipping his hand intoLegolas' long slender fingers. The elf seemed mildly surprised, but nodded. They walked down the hall and through the large oak doors of the entrance hall, stepping finally outside. Legolas' mood seemed to visually brighten, whileEstel's eyes sparkled in merriment.

"Come see my pony," he said, and led the prince down the steps and to the stables. Legolas followed silently. When they arrived at the stables Estel withdrew his hand and rushed to Veni. He stroked her cheek fondly.

"This is Veni," he explained. "She likes oats the best." Legolas nodded and reached out to caress Veni's velvety nose. She snuffled and rubbed her nose against his fingers, enjoying his touch. Suddenly the elven prince looked up at a welcoming nicker two stalls down. A light brown mare stuck her head out from her stable, turning her large brown eyes to the elf that stood beside the boy. Legolas made his way to her and stroked her cheek, murmuring in Elvish.

"Is that your horse?" Estel asked, coming to stand by his side and gazing up at the beautiful animal. He stood on his toes and brushed the mare's nose with his fingers. Understanding the boy's struggle, the horse lowered her head to make it easier for the young being to reach her.

"Yes," Legolas answered. "Her name is Khílya."

"She's pretty," Estel said softly. Legolas smiled lightly, a smile that was dry of emotion and did not reach his eyes.

"So was the original bearer of the name," the elf whispered. He did not think he spoke loud enough for the boy beside him to hear, but Estel's ears were sharp and detected the small comment. He stored it away in his mind.

"Would you like to go riding with me later?" he asked.

"I would very much like that," the prince replied. Estel slipped his hand into the elf's once more. He smiled up at him and led him into the forest. Veni and Khílya gazed sorrowfully after them. Estel and his elven companion entered the shadow of the trees. Legolas peered up at the trees, his eyes tender.

"These are magnificent trees," he murmured. "They are almost as grand as the ones of my home." Estel, delighted that the elf was finally saying something that did not answer a question, countered with one of his own.

"You like trees?" he asked, gazing up at the fair face. Legolas nodded.

"Very much," he replied. "I normally spend my time amongst them."

"I like climbing them," Estel said. Legolas smiled faintly, this time a genuine smile that touched his eyes. The small boy could have whooped in joy at the tiny sign of happiness the prince was showing. It was the first time Estel had seen the elf smile sincerely.

"I enjoy climbing them as well," Estel said.

"Once I found a bird nest," Estel said, to keep the talking aloft. "There was a nana bird, and she was sitting on eggs. I left her alone."

"That was wise," Legolas replied. "She would have felt threatened if you came too close."

"But I wouldn't have hurt her."

"She wouldn't have known that. Her instincts tell her to protect her babies."

"Would she have attacked me?"

"Most likely."

The banter went on like this for a while. The sun climbed higher in the sky as the two of them walked along the forest path, their hands linked. Soon Estel led Legolas to his favorite place to explore: a small creek running through the trees. Estel removed his boots and waded into the water, his leggings rolled up. He lifted rocks and other things to peer beneath them and see what was hiding under their protective darkness. Legolas was content to stay on shore, watching the boy's antics as he puttered around the creek. Estel did not see, but Legolas even smiled a few times, amused by the younger being. Estel reminded the prince of what he had been like when he was young himself. There was an aura of innocence and happiness around the boy that warmed and soothed Legolas' hurting heart.

"Come help me look for things, Legolas!" Estel called from his spot across the creek. Legolas smiled slightly and shook his head.

"I'm fine over here," he replied. Estel shrugged and went along his own way, lifting a rock and looking beneath it. He poked a stick through the water. Suddenly he gasped.

"Look!" he called, lifting up a rock. He made his way back to the shore where Legolas was waiting and held out the rock he was clutching. No, not a rock, a turtle, Legolas realized as a small scaly head emerged from one side of the shell. Arms and legs popped from the sides and waved in the air slowly.

"It's hurt," Estel whispered hoarsely. Legolas quickly realized that a long gash ran down the side of the turtle's leg, steadily dripping blood. Wordlessly and gently he took the turtle from the boy's hands. He set it on the ground.

"Watch it and make sure it does not crawl away," Legolas told Estel. The boy nodded and fixed his gaze on the creature below him. Legolas scanned the surrounding foliage for the right herbs he would need. Being a warrior, he had vague knowledge of healing, and one of the more basic lessons was cleaning and binding wounds. He fell gracefully to his knees and pulled some plants from the dirt. He grabbed some leaves of another and went back to the creek, where Estel was placing the turtle back on the shore. It had almost gotten away.

Legolas took the boy's hands and placed them on the sides of the turtle's shell, gesturing that he should keep the animal still. Estel wondered why the elf did not speak until Legolas removed a root from his mouth and pressed the paste against the wound gently. The turtle jerked, withdrawing its head and legs slightly into the shell as the root stung, but it eventually relaxed. Legolas ripped a thin piece of cloth from the bottom of his tunic and wrapped it around the injured leg. He then took a piece from a leaf in his hand and chewed it carefully to a paste, then lifted the turtle and pried its mouth open with cultivated fingers, taking the paste from his mouth and placing it on the turtle's tongue. The turtle swallowed the herb reflexively. Legolas took the creature from Estel's hands and placed it upon the ground next to him.

"What will happen now?" Estel asked quietly, gazing at the still animal.

"The herb will put it to sleep," Legolas replied.

"Can I take it home with me?" Estel asked. Legolas nodded.

"At least until it heals," the prince answered.

"I can't keep it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, Estel," Legolas said, pausing for a moment, "it was born out in the wild. This is its home, where it belongs. If you keep it, it will never see this place again, and it will be sad. Its heart lies here." Legolas' words were full of an unknown emotion.

"If I keep it, it will be sad?" Estel asked. "How do you know?"

"All creatures are forever bound to their homes," Legolas whispered. "It is a place they can feel safe and always love."

"Do you miss your home?" Estel asked softly, his eyes never leaving the prince's face. It was a while before the elf responded.

"Whenever I am away from it," he replied at last. He said no more. Estel accepted the quiet answer and waded back out into the stream. He prodded around for a few more hours until the sky was beginning to darken. Legolas called him from his exploring and got to his feet. He lifted the turtle carefully in his hands.

"Legolas, look what I found!" Estel exclaimed, coming from the water. He held out his hand, where a small jewel glittered, covered by mud and the dirt from the stream. Legolas narrowed his eyes and peered intently at the small thing.

"May I see that?" he asked. Estel nodded and placed it in the center of Legolas slender hand. The elf wiped the dirt off on his tunic and held it up to the light.

"This is dwarven, I believe," Legolas said, handing it back to Estel. "They fancy jewels and precious metals. They decorate most of their halls with golden dust, making it sparkle. More of the higher ranks of dwarves have weapons with jewels embedded in them."

"What else do you know?" Estel asked, sticking the jewel in his pocket and relieving Legolas of the burden of the turtle. They found the path and made their way towards the elven lord's home.

"Many things," Legolas answered. "Part of my studies were of other races."

"Can you tell me?"

"Of course."

You could not have found more knowledge in one place. Legolas knew the grand cities' names for each race, their location, when they were built, what they were made out of and how long it took to build them. He knew an assortment of languages, from Dwarfish to Stezctkin, the language of the stars, even Dragoneshki, the dragons' language.

"Where did you learn all of this?" Estel asked as the house came into view.

"In my earlier years," Legolas replied. "It was part of my studies. Some of the things I learned was from books, but most I learned from traveling."

"You like traveling?"

"Yes, very much."

"Why?"

"Why?" Legolas repeated, turning his gaze back down to the small boy with a smile. "I like seeing new things, going new places. Mostly, I like learning new things."

"Have you been doing this long?" Estel asked.

"Yes. Almost my whole life."

"How old are you?"

For the first time, Estel heard the elven prince laugh. It was a musical sound that seemed to cheer the entire forest, quiet as it was. The sound warmed Estel's heart and only made his desire to hear the prince sing stronger.

"I am many years old, by human standards," Legolas finally said. "In elven years, I am still quite young. I am twenty-one in elven years. But in humans' view of time, I am exactly two thousand seven hundred and sixty three." Legolas laughed again when Estel's mouth dropped open in surprise. The boy had known elves were immortal, yet he had never known their exact age. If this elf was that old, how old was Elrond!

"Where are you going to keep the turtle?" Legolas asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"In my room," Estel said, looking down at the shell. The turtle was still sleeping from the herb Legolas had given it. Its legs were pulled in tightly into its shell and its nose barely poked out.

"Will Lord Elrond approve of that?" Legolas asked as they made their way up the steps slowly.

"Probably," Estel replied, shrugging. "If he doesn't, I can just cry and get him to say yes." Legolas laughed again. Being with this boy made his heart forget all of the horrible things of his past and see life in a new light. He was feeling better than he had when he had first arrived in Jenuthain. He had only laughed like this with very close friends, and getting friends when you were a prince was very difficult.

"Is that the tactic you usually use to get your way?" Legolas asked as they walked slowly through the entrance hall. "You use your innocence and adorable features?"

"If I have to," Estel said, looking up at the elf with wide silver eyes and sticking his lower lip out to prove his point, only causing the elven prince to laugh again. Calen suddenly entered the room, and the laughter died away, the smile leaving Legolas' face. His emotionless reserve was replaced. Estel found he did not like the change at all. Legolas was back to the stoic prince he had been when the boy had first seen him.

"Prince Legolas," Calen said breathlessly, glancing at the five year old boy. The advisor normally would have called the prince only by his name, not his title, but since there were other people in the room, he chose the latter.

"What is it, Calen?" Legolas asked.

"Lord Elrond has summoned us for another debate." Legolas stifled a groan. He nodded his head.

"I will be there shortly, Calen," he answered. The other elf accepted the answer and hurried off. Legolas sighed when the chief advisor was out of earshot.

"Do you have to go?" Estel asked, clutching the turtle close to his chest. He felt upset that the prince had to leave now, when he was just getting the elf to open up. Legolas looked down at the small boy.

"I'm afraid so, Estel," he replied.

"I don't want you to go," the small child whispered. Legolas smiled slightly.

"Neither do I," the prince said. "I will be back shortly, I hope."

"I'll be waiting for you."

Legolas' gaze softened and he smiled in answer before padding away. Estel watched the doorway he had disappeared down for a moment. He then turned and made his way back to his room. He placed the slumbering turtle on the floor in front of the fireplace and flopped down next to the creature. He cocked his head as the scaly green head emerged from the shell, the beady eyes blinking blearily. It opened its mouth and yawned, revealing a pink tongue. The limbs poked from the confines of the shell and tugged the animal forward slowly. Estel smiled.

"Hello," he murmured. "How do you feel?"

The turtle turned its gaze to the small boy in front of it. It only stared for a while, then began to explore its surroundings. Estel watched it with interest, lying down on his stomach and kicking his feet into the air.

"What's that?"

Estel turned around at the voice to see Elladan and Elrohir in the doorway.

"It's a turtle."

"Where did it come from?" Ro asked, slipping into the room and sitting down next to his foster brother. Elladan remained standing, staring down at the little shelled creature crawling at his feet.

"I found it with Legolas," Estel explained. "It was hurt, and he fixed it. He said I could keep it here until it healed."

"With Prince Legolas?" Elladan asked. "Is that where you were all day?"

"Yes," Estel replied. "We went for a walk together through the woods. I found the turtle at the creek."

"No wonder you weren't at breakfast this morning," Elrohir mused. "I bet you are hungry." As if on cue, an empty hollowness made itself known in Estel's stomach. He nodded eagerly.

"Let's go see if we can filch you something. Dinner's already passed."

Estel got to his feet, lifting the turtle with him, telling his elven brothers that it was probably hungry too. They accepted that and the three of them made their way to the kitchens. Estel tugged a stool to the counter. He placed the turtle on the countertop and climbed up onto the stool. Elrohir dug through the pantry and found some bread for the boy, while Elladan came into the room with a fruit and leaves for the turtle. The twins pulled up their own stools and each picked off of a slice of bread between them. The three kept up a light conversation while they ate. The turtle snapped up the leaves, causing Estel to smile happily.

"Are you going to call it anything?" Elrohir asked, gesturing to the turtle. Estel swung his legs, thinking as he chewed on a piece of fruit, the juice dribbling down his chin.

"I'll call it…hmm…Lokni."

The twins smiled at the creativity of the younger being. 'Lokni' meant 'green dragon in disguise' in Elvish.

"Not bad," Elladan said as they dropped off their stools and exited the kitchen. Estel carried the turtle beneath an arm and munched on an extra piece of bread. They all went back to his room and sat near the fire. Estel placed Lokni in the center of them, and the siblings conversed quietly as they watched the creature crawl around them and the stars began to appear.

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Estel lightly rapped his knuckles against Legolas' door. He held Lokni under one arm and adjusted the load slowly.

"Enter."

Estel turned the knob and slipped through the door. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. One lone candle burned atop a table, casting its light and banishing some of the darkness. Estel scanned the room and once again found the bed empty.

"Estel?"

The boy turned and saw the prince seated on the balcony railing, his head turned in his direction. Estel stepped out onto the balcony and leaped up onto the railing next to Legolas with an amazing amount of grace for one so young, especially a human.

"I thought you would be asleep by now," Legolas whispered. Estel shook his head, moving the turtle to his lap.

"I said I would be waiting for you," he replied back quietly. The elf prince smiled and looked down at the turtle.

"How is it?" he asked.

"Much better. I named her Lokni." Legolas laughed quietly.

"'Dragon in disguise'?" he mused. "Clever." He could already feel his spirits beginning to lift. He had no idea what was in the boy, but something about him made the hurts of his soul be left in the mist and happiness come into view. It was strange, the effect Estel had on Legolas.

"Do you want to go riding with me tomorrow?" Estel asked, interrupting Legolas' thoughts. The elf hadn't realized he had drifted away. He snapped back to the present.

"Yes," he answered. "That would be nice."

A few hours later, as Lord Elrond made his way down the hall, his ears picked up the sound of merry giggles coming from one of the rooms. Light filtered through a door standing ajar, laughter floating through the space. Elrond crept quietly up and peered through, smiling at the sight that met his eyes. Legolas and Estel lay on their stomachs by the fireplace, a quill in each of their hands. Parchment was scattered around them by the dozens, many with undecipherable scribbles marking them. As Elrond watched, Estel made an exaggerated swooping motion with his arm, making a loud _scritch_ with his quill. Legolas observed his markings carefully.

"What does that look like?" Estel asked, pointing to the page. Legolas tilted his head to the side, trying to see what the mark looked like from the boy's point of view. He thought for a moment.

"A centií," he said at last, remembering the large elephant-like animals he owned in Mirkwood. "Except the trunk is missing." Estel made another mark.

"Like that?" he asked. Legolas reached over and made a sign of his own.

"Like that," he repeated. "With a tail, too." Estel added the feature to his picture. He gazed up at the elf across from him with questioning eyes. Legolas smiled and nodded.

"Exactly."

Estel grinned and continued to doodle, kicking his legs in the air. A companionable silence stretched between the two of them for a while before Elrond knocked lightly on the door. Both their heads snapped up. Elrond stepped through the doorway and Legolas' mask was lifted as he stood to his feet. Estel followed the prince's lead and scrambled to stand.

"You should be in bed, Estel," the elven lord said softly.

"Yes Ada," the boy whispered, stooping and cleaning the papers from the floor. Legolas nodded in respect and knelt down to help pick up the pieces of parchment that lay scattered. He piled them up and handed them to the boy in front of him. He then lifted a dozing Lokni from the floor. Estel nodded his head.

"Hannon le," he whispered in Elvish. "Thank you." He only nodded back and straightened. Elrond ushered his foster son out into the hall before turning once more to Legolas.

"Goodnight, Legolas," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Lord Elrond," Legolas murmured monotonously. Elrond softly clicked the door shut behind him. Estel waited on the other side, the turtle he had saved and the parchment clutched to his chest. Elrond smiled down at the large silver eyes watching him and placed a gentle hand on Estel's shoulder, leading the boy back to his own room.

"Legolas told me all about the turtle," he murmured as he lifted the creature and papers from Estel's arms and placed them on a table.

"He did?" the young one asked, beginning to yawn.

"Yes. You can keep it safe until it heals, then you can let it go."

"Hannon le, Ada," Estel whispered, crawling under the sheets and tugging them up to his shoulders. Elrond smiled and kissed his brow softly.

"_Garo bost vaer_, ion-nîn," Elrond whispered soothingly. The boy sighed and closed his eyes. Elrond brushed the hair back from the young one's face tenderly before standing and walking to the doorway. He glanced once at the slumbering turtle before shutting the door softly behind him.

"Ada?" came a quiet voice to his left. The elven lord turned to see his daughter padding softly down the hall, her silk dress wavering. She fell into step with her father.

"You seem…"

"Thoughtful?" Elrond asked. Arwen nodded.

"Yes. Thoughtful. What are you thinking?" she asked. Elrond smiled.

"You do have your mother's heart," he murmured fondly, gazing at the elven maiden out of the corner of his eye. "She always used to ask me that."

"Well, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about Estel…" he paused for a moment before continuing, "…and Legolas." Arwen nodded in understanding.

"Estel seems to have an effect on Legolas, is that what you are saying?" Arwen asked. Elrond cocked his head from side to side, saying without words that that was only part of what he had really been thinking.

"Yes…but notice, Legolas only smiles or laughs in the little one's presence," he mused slowly. "Whenever someone else approaches, he hides it immediately. Estel is trying to prevent that, I see it, but…"

"It's not working?" Arwen suggested, completing the lord's unfinished sentence.

"Yes. Realize, when King Thranduil sent the word that he would be sending the chief advisor, he also asked me something else. He did not only send Legolas down here, he asked me to help him. He is worried about his son, but cannot get close enough to help him. He said, in his letter, 'when he comes home I want to see him smile in my presence, a thing he has not done for centuries.'"

"But Ada, you can only heal physical wounds, you are not a psychiatrist," Arwen said. Elrond chuckled humorlessly.

"Yes, I realized that, _sell vuin_, my daughter," Elrond said as they entered his room and stepped out onto the balcony. "Yet Estel seems to have that charm enough. He is the one healing the young prince's heart. I believe we should just let him work and see how it turns out in the end. If we can intervene then we should, in places where we think Estel needs help. But for now, let us let him be."

"Alright," Arwen murmured, somewhat regretfully. "I will leave the prince alone." Elrond caught the tone in her voice and his head whipped around to face her.

"What is this I hear?" he asked quietly. Arwen gazed at him in what seemed innocence, but a red flush was creeping into her cheeks.

"Has the young prince stolen your heart, _sell vuin_?" Elrond asked with a smile, his consciousness brushing against hers and recognizing the emotion.

"You cannot tell the twins!" she whispered fiercely. "They will only take the information and twist it! Please, Ada!"

"I will not, I promise," the lord laughed. "I am only happy that someone has finally come along that can meet your picky standards. You should tell him."

"Tell him?"

"Well, tell _me_ first, what do you find about him that interests you?" Arwen shifted uneasily.

"I know he seems…cold, at first, but…I see…something more in him, I suppose," she answered at last, her voice hesitant as she tried to identify the reasons and cope with the embarrassing situation. "I cannot explain what it is I see. I guess I can see…a kind heart in him. A certain…gentleness that draws me to him." Elrond placed a hand on her slim shoulder, gazing at her tenderly.

"It is alright, Arwen," he whispered. "I do not shame you for being attracted to someone, especially one such as that of Prince Legolas. I can see what you do and I know that Legolas is hiding his soul from the world. In time he will bring it out to show."

"Hannon le, Ada," Arwen murmured. Elrond wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, placing a gossamer kiss on her brow.

"Be patient, _sell vuin_," he whispered into her dark hair.

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Whew! I hope that was long enough for you! I know it was for me! Anyway...reviews wanted! Will be looked for! Thanx! -Copperfang


	6. The burden revealed

Yes! I'm so happy to see that most of my reviewers decided to continue reading!

A/N: You will now have a chance to see how deep Legolas' grief really goes. If he's OOC in this chapter, forgive me.

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**IwishChan: **Yes, it is a big improvement, thankfully! He'll start opening up to the others soon, have no fear! Thank you for your review, and I'm glad you like my story!

**ghostlyfacade: **It's alright, you can have another doughnut. And I'm glad you liked the last chapter! (It certainly was long enough for me, and I'm the writer!) I'm also glad you decided to keep reading! I, too, however, liked the turtle. I thought it was a cute touch. -grin-

**Hippielover459: **Yes, it certainly was a long chapter, possibly as tiring to read as it was to write! lol. Anywho, glad you liked it, and I hope to see reviews from you in the future!

**Gemini969: **Thanx! I hope I updated soon enough for you!

**Black Zodiac: **Thank you! I probably can always update soon. I have no life, and the computer is really the only thing I have to do. So there will be plenty of updates for you! I'm glad you decided to keep reading!

**Redleef: **lol, thanx. I liked the turtle myself.

**lindahoyland: **Thank you! I'm glad you like my version of Estel. Anyway, I'm glad to know you're not annoyed at me or anything, and I'll consider changing the title, for both ours and readers' sakes. I like your suggestions. I'll keep them in mind when I try to change it. Thanx for your review, and I'm glad you decided to keep reading!

**kkcnbay5:** That's okay. I know some people have trouble with reviews. But, if you can take the time to simply write a 'good' or 'bad', that would mean a lot to me. I'm glad you decided to keep reading!

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Again, forgive me if there's any OOCness. Disclaimer (I forgot last chapter): I don't own anything! Will someone please get these lawyers off of me? They won't leave me alone! -grabs broom- Back, people of law, back to the shadows! (I am so whacked. O.o)

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ch. 6

Estel tugged Veni from her stall. She nickered happily, joyous in knowing that she was going for a run. Two stalls down, Legolas called Khílya out. She came willingly, brushing her nose against his shoulder in a sign of affection. He held her long snout and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, staring into her dark brown eyes. She stayed still in his embrace for a moment before snorting and shoving him to her side, indicating that she wanted him to climb onto her back. He laughed lightly and patted her side.

"You have a very pushy horse," Estel pointed out with a small smile. Legolas laughed again and fingered her mane fondly.

"Yes, and she is as stubborn as a mule," he said. Khílya snuffled and tossed her head in what seemed to mean: _so what if I am?_ _I'd rather get going instead of standing here all day and talking of my unattractive traits. _

Legolas, seeming to get the message, leaped lightly onto her back and gripped her mane as he waited for Estel. The boy climbed onto the back of his small pony, trotting out into the sunshine and regrouped with Legolas. They jerked their mounts back when they heard a voice behind them.

"Mind if I join you?"

Legolas and Estel both whipped their heads around to see Arwen prance lightly up to them on the back of a burly dappled steed, his name Zeinix. She pulled him up short next to the two of them, brushing back her windswept hair out of her eyes and flashing a brilliant smile at the two of them. She wore a pair of leggings and a tunic that she had filched from Elrohir's wardrobe, for his clothes fit her better than Elladan's, though they were still too big. She could not wear a dress for riding.

"Well?" she asked the two stunned faces staring at her odd attire. "Are we going?"

"Right," Estel muttered, wondering when he would ever understand elves and their ways. He kicked his pony into a gallop, soon followed by Legolas and Arwen. They raced beneath the trees, following the path. It was not long before they veered off and created their own path through the forest.

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"How about over here?" Arwen called to the two boys from Zeinix's back. Legolas on Khílya soon came beside her, Estel sitting in front of him. Veni followed behind on short legs. The day so far had gone perfectly. They had trotted and explored through the forest, finding new things and sometimes going on foot to give their mounts a break. Legolas soon became as he usually was when he was alone with Estel, he opened up, despite Arwen's presence. The elf maiden found she liked Legolas much better when he was not under the stress of others or the role of being a prince. It had taken a few hours, but eventually he was laughing and joking along with them, for Estel had soon wormed his way past all of the layers of stoic reserve again, opening it wide for Arwen to see, and what she saw she liked.

After the sun had crawled past the midway point in the sky, they all decided on a race. They had spent the last quarter of an hour searching for the perfect place for the competition. Now Arwen was standing at the head of a gigantic meadow, the green grass spreading out before them for at least five miles. It was the perfect place for a race between two competitive elves and their stubborn horses. Khílya snuffled and tossed her mane, her brown eyes flicking over the sturdy body of her opponent before she trotted down into the meadow, Zeinix following close behind. They fell into an even line, gazing at the small hills of the meadow before them.

"So, Arwen, if you want to drop out of this now you can do it," Legolas said, flashing a smile in her direction. "Your steed is strong, yes, but he is not made for running, whereas Khílya is made of the swift winds." He patted her neck fondly. Khílya nickered in what seemed to be agreement, tossing her mane proudly and flicking her long tail. Zeinix snuffled indignantly as Arwen shook her head.

"You underestimate Zeinix," she said, stroking the dappled gray coat of the insulted horse. "He is much faster than you think. He may look bulky, but he can run with as much grace as a lark in flight and with the swiftness of a hunted buck." Legolas laughed lightly at the analogy, shaking his head.

"It will be your own undoing, Arwen, but it is your choice after all," he said quietly. He began to lift Estel off of Khílya's back. The boy voiced his disagreement and gripped her mane tightly.

"I want to stay with you," he said. Legolas nodded and let go of him, reaching around Estel's waist to grab a handful of her mane himself.

"Ready to lose?" he asked the elven maiden beside him as he leaned over. The musical laughter of Arwen rang in his ears.

"I do not think I am the one who will be losing," she replied, leaning over her own mount in preparedness for the race.

"Alright…one, two, three, GO!" Estel shouted. Both elves kicked the undersides of their horses, and with startled whinnies, the two animals geared into a sprint. Khílya had the lead for a few moments, but Zeinix soon caught up and kept pace with her. The two of them stayed evenly for a while, the dust and grass flying beneath their hooves. Legolas glanced at his opponent. He whispered encouragement to his mount in Elvish quietly. Arwen was doing the same to her own steed, coaxing him slightly faster with each word she uttered.

Estel gasped as a log came into view. Legolas and Arwen led their horses over the barrier, receiving only a light jarring as the mounts leaped expertly and gracefully over the log. There was a slight falter in Zeinix's landing, giving Khílya enough time to get ahead. Legolas smiled knowingly as he heard Arwen shouting emboldening words in Elvish at her mount.

Khílya, incited, sprinted faster, leaving the steed far behind her. Legolas glanced back and saw Arwen's determined face through the dust, goading her horse faster. Estel whooped in exhilaration, throwing a fist in the air in accomplishment.

"The race is not finished yet, Estel," Legolas breathed into the young one's ear.

"Yes, but there is no way she can win now," he said back, struggling to be heard over the pounding of the horse's hooves beneath them. The elf prince smiled.

"Khílya!" Legolas shouted as she stumbled when her hoof slipped into a ditch. She was not hurt, but the falter allowed Zeinix to catch up, and the two horses were neck and neck once again. Arwen smiled at her luck as her steed began to pull ahead. Legolas lightly kicked Khílya's belly, but she was nearly worn out and her breath was coming in great gasps. Arwen's laugh of triumph could barely be heard over the thundering hooves. Legolas, not about to be beaten by a maiden, whispered a few words of Elvish into Khílya's ear and jerked on her mane. She understood, and taking one large bound, she landed dangerously close to Zeinix's pumping legs. He screeched in surprise and reared slightly, halting his winning streak. Khílya took the opening and raced quickly to the other end of the meadow, where her rider pulled her up short and leaped off her back, laughing. He helped Estel down and waited for Arwen to catch up.

"You cheated!" Arwen hollered as she slid from her mount's back. Legolas laughed and patted Khílya's side. Her breathing was coming in great shuddering gasps, betraying how tired she was. He whispered excited words in Elvish to her and let her wander off to graze and earn a well-won rest.

"I did not cheat, Arwen," Legolas said as she stalked closer. He ducked a swat aimed at his head. The female elf soon fired another shot at his stomach, but he swiftly batted the blow away. What had been once a simple gesture became a playful one on one combat between the two elves. They parried, ducked, shot, fought with all their grace and speed, laughing as they could not best each other. Arwen knelt down and swung her leg out, attempting to kick the prince's legs out from under him, yet he only quickly jumped over her foot. He then landed a light blow against her shoulder. Had they been really fighting, he would have knocked her backward with his strength, but he only caused her to stumble now, lessening the force of the stroke.

Estel watched intently as the two elves fought, trying to follow each move. Such a thing was difficult, for both moved almost too fast for his eyes to trace. He had never seen two elves fight like this before, and it was fascinating, their grace and agility amazing even for their own race. They were both experienced fighters. This made it difficult for either side to win. They were locked in their own graceful and stunning dance, dodging and landing blows, stepping fleetly around each other on swift feet.

Legolas lightly knocked a knuckle against Arwen's pressure point, the area just behind her temple. Elves had certain sensitive places that, when hit, they could stun an elf temporarily. Legolas quickly reached over and tapped such a spot, light enough to not completely stun her, but enough to haze her vision and lose her focus. The very thing he had in mind played out, her feet stumbled, her vision swam. She blinked in confusion as Legolas dropped into a crouch, kicking his leg out and spinning on one foot, catching her ankles. Arwen shrieked in surprise as her feet were taken out from under her, sending her toppling for the ground. With inhuman speed, Legolas straightened and caught her before she could collide with the earth. When her sight returned, she glared up at the prince holding her. Both were breathing deeply, their energy spurred from the hurried fight.

"You…are…a cheater," Arwen puffed, casting him a melting glower that she had learned from her father. The prince was not fazed, and he quirked a cocky eyebrow and smiled, only frustrating her more.

"Anything else you want to do to humiliate yourself?" he asked lightly. "Racing, fighting, what else is there?"

"Let me up," she growled, and he smoothly placed her on her feet. She brushed off her tunic and refused to meet the prince's gaze. Estel raced over and grabbed her hand.

"That was amazing!" he chirped, jumping up and down. He turned to Legolas. "Could you teach me how to fight like that?" The elf laughed.

"Maybe," he replied. "But for now, I think we need to get back to the house. It is beginning to grow dark. Khílya!" The mare whinnied and trotted over. Zeinix came to a call from Arwen. They went to the other side of the meadow on foot to give their mounts a break. They were still slightly huffing and their coats were still glossy with sweat. When they came back to the forest Veni was waiting patiently in a clearing, grazing. She nickered a welcome to the group when they arrived. Estel rushed over to her and pet her side. They found the path again and made their way back to Lord Elrond's home, placing their horses in the stables, and the animals did not object. The three of them made their way quietly through the house to Legolas' room and sat out on the balcony. A light conversation began between them, or mainly, between the two elves, for the young one accompanying them did not have the attention span for such activities, and was content with just adding to his centií drawing, lying on his stomach on the balcony floor.

"When will you be leaving for Mirkwood?" Arwen asked. She sat back in her chair. Legolas was perched on the stone balcony railing, his legs crossed under him. The bluish glow that surrounded him was particularly bright tonight, for he was content with his present state of mind. Arwen gave off a glow as well. Legolas placed his elbows on his knees.

"It has been almost three days now, correct?" he mused, almost to himself. He stared down at the progressing sketch Estel was making for a moment.

"In about two weeks' time," the prince finally said. "My father sometimes needs help with the matters of our realm…not that I enjoy the work. Personally, I do not wish to return."

"You do not like it in your home?" the maiden asked, confused. Legolas sighed.

"It is not my home, it is the position I carry in my home and the ones that dwell in it." He said the words somewhat haltingly, not wishing to insult his kingdom.

"Your people?"

"I am Prince Legolas to all of them save few. That is not who I wish to be. There is no comfort being royalty, none who can really appreciate who you are by your behavior, not how you handle a kingdom. This is the very reason I travel so often. Outside my home, I am not called Prince Legolas, your highness, your majesty. I am only called Legolas, and that is the way I want it." He fell silent and gazed at the stars for a few moments.

"I'm sorry." Arwen's voice was soft. She had not realized the burden of carrying royal blood. The elf on the balcony smiled and shook his head, turning a tender gaze in her direction.

"Do not be. You have already given me what I want. You and him," he said, gesturing to Estel, who had fallen asleep where he lay on the balcony floor. Legolas chuckled softly before meeting the maiden's gray eyes with the beautiful blue of his own.

"You do not call me by any title except for my name, and I thank you for that, Arwen," he whispered. She smiled back, not knowing what to say. Legolas sighed and swung around in his seat, tucking one leg under him and hanging the other over the three-story drop. He looked up at the stars.

"That is at least small comfort, having friends," he murmured. He bowed his head. "I have no family for that sort of consolation." Arwen stood from her chair and leaped onto the railing beside him. She had taken off the tunic and leggings and was back in a dress, so such an act was difficult. Her gaze was compassionate as she stared into Legolas' downcast eyes.

"What of your father?" she asked softly, her voice as soothing as the passing breeze. Legolas sniffed.

"My father," he said, with a hint of resentment. "My father cares naught save the kingdom's wellbeing. He does not care for me nor love me. If he does he does not show it." Arwen shifted closer, wishing to give comfort to the saddened prince.

"I'm sure he does love and care for you," she whispered into his gracefully pointed ear. "I am not sure why he would hide it; you need to consult him about that, but all fathers have love for their children. And his love for you would only be strengthened."

"Why would you say that?" Legolas asked softly, swinging his head around to face her and meeting her gaze. Eyes the color of sky and thunderclouds clashed for a moment. Arwen was at a loss for words, and it was the eyes of gray that looked towards the heavens to escape the color of blue boring into her.

"For you are all he has left," she whispered. She would say no more and would not meet his eyes again. Legolas turned his eyes to the stars above.

"I do not fault you for what you are saying," he murmured. "You are correct, but what will it take for him to finally show his care for me? What more do I have to do to make him proud of me? I have tried my hardest in everything I am asked to do, and still he acts as if he is blind to it all." His grief went deeper than the meaning of his words. The thing he was really trying to say was lightly veiled beneath his voice. Arwen saw what it truly was and her heart went out to the young prince. She understood his meaning. Legolas had obviously tried to get closer to his father somehow, but the king kept recoiling. Legolas' confusion lay in the question of why his father was somehow reluctant to speak informally with him. Legolas was placing blame where it should not have been set, asking himself what he could have possibly done to scare Thranduil away.

When Legolas glanced back at Arwen he saw that she was looking at him in sympathy, her eyes soft. He swallowed tightly. He did not want anyone's pity, least of all from a daughter of the elven lord.

"I am sorry, Legolas," she whispered. He suddenly realized that she had understood the real meaning of his confusion and pain. He mentally cursed himself. For centuries he had kept his fears, doubts and hurts secret from all around him. He had just revealed his insecurities to Arwen, an elven maiden he hardly knew. His father had tried to pry this information out of him and come out unsuccessful, and he was a stern questioner. How could Arwen receive all of this information without even asking for it? Legolas soon came up with an answer. The very thing his father had not been supplying was the key to opening up the lock that held his fears and pain, and Arwen had given it to him, allowing his stoic barrier to crumble. It was compassion. Compassion and understanding is what he had needed for years on end and had never received. He suddenly realized that he yearned it, he yearned comfort and understanding from someone else.

_How weak am I? _Legolas asked himself in disgust. A tear slid unbidden from his eye. He lifted his hand to wipe it away, but Arwen's cool fingers closed around his wrist, halting his movement. She placed her hand on the side of his face, wiping away the tear with her thumb. He closed his eyes at her touch, his body trembling from the effort to keep the sobs inside of him quiet. The only things that betrayed his anguish were the tears that escaped his eyes, sliding silently down his fair cheeks. Arwen felt her heartstrings tug painfully inside herself as she watched the elven prince weep. Finally, when she thought she could stand it no longer, she gently pulled Legolas into a tight embrace. He seemed mildly surprised at the abrupt sign of comfort, but his grief soon overwhelmed him, and he collapsed bonelessly against her, his body shaking uncontrollably as he pressed his eyes into her shoulder and let the current of sorrow sweep him away.

Arwen rocked him slowly back and forth, murmuring soothing things in Elvish. She seemed to have an aura of consolation about her that soothed the young prince's pain. After all, she had been there for each of her younger twin brothers and then Estel whenever they had had a night terror or had been seeking comfort after others had teased them that day. She had her mother's heart and gave luxury freely and often to whomever needed it.

Arwen smoothed Legolas' golden hair and whispered Elvish words into his ear as he wept, pressing her cheek against the side of his head and tightening her hold around his shoulders. She almost started when he spoke, quietly, so low that even her keen elvish hearing could barely make out the words.

"I watched…her die," he moaned, his breathing hitched from the sobs that still needed to escape. "I…could have done something…to stop it…but…it's all my fault."

"Shh…Legolas, hush," Arwen whispered. "What's your fault?"

"My…mother's death," he replied quietly, his eyes still pressed into her shoulder. "The orc…I watched as it…stabbed her…I could…could have done something." His words were hesitant and low, but the anguish behind them was clear. "That is why…Ada hates me…he knows it's all my fault…" The prince's words trailed away as a new set of sobs wracked his body. Arwen rocked him slightly harder and she grasped his hand tightly in her own.

"Hush, Legolas, none of it was your fault," she whispered in Elvish. "You could not stop it. You were young and did not know that such violence would be inflicted on your mother."

"I was right _there_, Arwen," Legolas argued, emphasizing the word as he lifted his head from her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. "I could have done something. Instead I could only sit there and watch as her life left her right beneath my palms stained with her blood…I could only watch her die. I…I was so helpless." His gaze turned away in shame. Arwen cupped the side of his face in her hand and forced him to meet her gaze again.

"You could not stop the blow that ended your mother's life," she whispered. "I doubt that anyone could have. But being there when she was dying, her son, you, probably helped her more than you think by giving her comfort during her last moments. Could she, I know she would thank you." Legolas was silent for a moment. He gazed openly into Arwen's eyes, saying without words how he felt. He allowed himself to be pulled into another embrace when the sadness began to let the tears free from his eyes and found that he welcomed it. The two elves sat motionless on the stone balcony, both of their natural glows emanating from them mixing in the darkness. They only had a few moments' peace when a small sound interrupted them. Estel was beginning to stir, his eyes fluttering open. Legolas and Arwen immediately separated, leaping nimbly from the balcony on which they had sat. Estel blinked and slowly sat up, his eyes bleary and his whole body stiff from slumbering on stone.

"Arwen?" he asked groggily as she knelt beside him and helped him sit up. She gathered the papers quickly as Legolas aided Estel in getting to his feet. The young one yawned and stretched.

"Time for bed, little one," Arwen whispered to the boy, giving him a light shove off of the balcony and into Legolas' dark room. He went without argument. Arwen stooped to lift the papers and straightened, righting her slightly disheveled dress. She was halted at the sound of a soft voice.

"Arwen."

The elven maiden turned to face the woodland warrior that stood beside the balcony railing, his head slightly bowed. He lifted his gaze and met hers.

"Hannon le," he whispered. Arwen smiled and nodded.

"_Garo bost vaer_, Legolas," she murmured. He smiled softly and bowed his head in farewell. She left with a whisper of her dress, the gossamer curtains of the balcony door fluttering slightly in the breeze she created when she walked by. Legolas sighed and returned his gaze to the stars, wiping the wetness from the tears off of his face with the back of his hand.

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Aww...reviews, please! -Copperfang


	7. Of rounded and pointed ears

A/N: Sorry for not updating in a few days when before I had been loading this story on at least every afternoon. My mom just found out that she can't get the school board to pay for an alternative school that I really want to go to, but it's really expensive, so she has to work full-time now. That's been on my mind and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, 'cause my parents were arguing and I felt like it was all my fault. I still can't help but feel responsible, and that sort of kept me from doing this for a while.

A/N2: There will be no responses in this chapter; I just caught whiff of that retarded new ban that prevents us from responding to reviews. It's really pissing me off, 'cause I want to tell you all how much your reviews mean to me, but I can't. I signed the petition and sent it out to a couple more people. If any of you want it, tell me in your review and I'll send it to you. We need to get 200 signatures! Help us out!

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Disclaimer: Don't hurt me! I don't own 'em...though I do in my own mind...**lawyers:** Grrr... Okay, okay, they're not mine, not even there...sheesh...

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ch.7

Legolas gazed down the shaft of the arrow, his concentration focused as he aimed his shot to the center of the target, where already five other arrows pierced. The day had been rough. Another debate had gone on today that the prince had had to attend. The topic was lost to him. He had yearned for the outdoors yet again. It was something he could not help despite how much he tried to stay focused on whatever was being discussed. He was relieved when he was finally dismissed, and that had happened almost fifteen minutes ago. He was content where he was, out on the shooting range, practicing with his longbow. A few young elflings were seated nearby on the lowest sturdy branch of an oak, watching intently. They had never seen a woodland elf at firing practice before and his aim stunned them.

The bow gave a muffled _twang_ as the arrow was released, flying with deadly aim and unmarked speed to embed its head in the center of the target, along with the others. Legolas notched his bow again with nimble fingers, moving almost too fast for the eye to follow. Would he have been in combat, he would have moved much quicker, the bow being strung in barely a sixteenth of a second. Legolas stepped back five paces and raised his armed bow, gazing down the shaft of the arrow at the center of the target. He relaxed his muscles and exhaled deeply, the slight movements usually garnered by breathing stilled. His lifted the point of the arrow slightly above the center of the target, for arrows in flight always had a downward arch, a fact he had learned when he was an elfling and first handled a bow. His fingers released the string.

The elven children on the limb clapped their hands and cheered in amazement as the arrow the prince had just released snapped through one of the ones already stuck in the target. Legolas smiled and notched his bow again, moving back another ten paces. He evened his shoulders and lifted the bow, his sight honed in on the spot in the target some hundred yards away.

Just as his fingers lightened on the string a shout disrupted his awareness, sending the arrow flying straight over the target and embedding itself in the trunk of a tree.

"_Legolas!_"

The elven prince whirled around. What he saw frightened him more than he would ever like to admit. Estel stumbled from the woods, his arms raised as he tried to reach the elf. Bruises covered the soft skin of his arms and face, and his nose was bleeding, as well as a split lip. Someone had obviously mercilessly beaten the boy.

Legolas immediately dropped his bow and fell to his knees, reaching out to the five year old. Estel collapsed in his outstretched arms, sobbing uncontrollably and clutching the front of Legolas' tunic as if he were afraid a strong wind would rip him away from the comfort. Legolas felt the boy trembling viciously beneath his embrace and his ire rose a few more notches higher than what he would have originally expected. Legolas reluctantly pulled Estel away from him to have a good look at his face. He gently brushed a few dark curly locks away from the bruised face and tilted the boy's head up, gazing intently at the ugly welts that offended Estel's normally flawless face.

"Estel, who did this to you?" he asked quietly, his voice lethal with rage aimed at whomever had harmed his young friend. He gently wiped the blood away from the boy's face with his sleeve, staining the emerald fabric.

"Boys…from the village," Estel replied softly, his breathing uneven from the sobs still inside of him. He winced at Legolas' gentle administrations as the elf cleaned the blood from his face with the soft green cloth of his sleeve. Tears fell down his cheeks. "They…they said…I wasn't an elf or a human…they called me an abom-bomina-tion." If it had been any other time, Legolas would have smiled at the young one's attempt to say the word 'abomination,' but the distress Estel had said the word with was tainted with obvious pain. The boys who had done this to him had clearly hit a sensitive spot when they had said that, bruising an already bruised soul. Estel had always been unsure about whether the elves truly accepted him or not for the fact that he was human. He was not their kind.

"You are not an abomination, Estel," Legolas whispered, pulling the young boy into another comforting embrace. "Lord Elrond loves you for who you are, not whether or not your ears are pointed." Estel unconsciously reached up and fingered the rounded edges of his ears. Legolas smiled and grabbed the small hand in his own, drawing the fingers away from the one of many signs that he was not an elf and never would be.

"B-but, I don't belong," Estel whispered. "They said the elves were sorry for taking me in because I was human, and that the men would reject me because I had grown with elves. They said I didn't belong anywhere." Legolas gazed compassionately into the silver tear-filled eyes that bored into him. He mutely shook his head and stroked Estel's cheek with his thumb.

"Estel, when Lord Elrond adopted you, he wanted you to belong, otherwise he would not have done it. The elves to not hate you for simply being that you are. Those who do not see that are blind. Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, me, we all love you and have not turned you away simply because you are human. Faulting one for something he cannot help is as foolish as it is futile. We love you for what you are here," Legolas said, pointing to Estel's chest, beneath which his young heart beat, "not here." The elf lightly touched the boy's rounded ear as he said the word. Estel nodded and sniffed, new tears coursing down his cheeks.

"They hurt me," he squeaked pitifully, his eyes glistening. Legolas felt his own throat tighten as he gently brushed the surface of a nasty bruise. His rage was hotter than anything he had ever felt before, but it melted as he gazed into the thin, young face wet with tears. He tugged Estel onto his knee and let the boy rest his head against the elf's shoulder, taking comfort from his friend. Legolas whispered soothing things in Elvish to calm Estel's frightened heart. The boy held in his arms closed his eyes, allowing the consoling words wash over his ears, of which now he was proud of. He knew now that his ada or any of his elven family would never willingly turn him away for simply the fact that he was different.

"I swear,Estel," Legolas whispered in Elvish, "I swear that I will not let them hurt you again"

"Hannon le," Estel murmured, burying his face into the shoulder of his elven friend. They remained close to each other for a while, not wishing to pull away, until Estel felt discomfort at the injuries he had sustained. Legolas, feeling him shift, adjusted the load in his arms and slowly rose to his feet. He lifted his bow and slung it quickly over his shoulder without slowing his rise and carried the boy across the shooting range, tugging his arrows from the target as he walked by. The elven children on the branch gazed after him in disappointment. They had enjoyed watching and sulkily slunk away to find something else to do.

Legolas entered the house of the elven lord, his feet barely making any sound on the polished marble floor. He rushed quickly through the entrance hall and into the corridor leading to Elrond's office. He passed by the twins' room on the way, and the door opened as he was passing by. Elladan stepped out, almost bumping into the elven prince. El backpedaled in surprise, gazing at the worried frown creasing Legolas' face and the small bundle he carried. Estel buried his face into the prince's shoulder, not wishing for his brother to see him in such a state and feigning the fact that everything was fine. Elladan was not fooled.

He turned to glance over his shoulder. "Elrohir," he called quickly. His twin appeared at his shoulder, his eyes wide in confusion. Puzzlement quickly shifted to astonishment as he spotted the bruises that dotted their young foster brother's arms and neck, as well as the dried blood that stained Legolas' sleeve.

"What happened?" the twins both asked as Legolas resumed his route to Elrond's office. They kept the prince's pace well, considering the speed he was going.

"Some young boys beat him," Legolas replied shortly. "I was at the shooting range when Estel came to me."

"Elladan, get Arwen," Elrohir told his twin. El, older by moments, was usually the one giving orders, but at the moment he was a bit too shocked to argue. He only nodded mutely and swept off to retrieve his sister. Elrohir accompanied Legolas to the office. Both the prince and the twin could hear distinctly the deep sound of the elven lord within the room. Legolas rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, the knock urgent.

"Enter."

Legolas opened the door and entered the furnished room. He found Elrond and Calen seated in armchairs beside the fire, a mug of tea in each of their hands. They looked alarmed when Legolas and Elrohir entered. Estel turned to look at his father, giving Elrond a clear view of his state.

"Ada…" he murmured, new tears falling from his eyes. Elrond was on his feet and at Legolas' side in an instant, taking his youngest son in his arms. The elven lord placed the boy in the deep armchair, quickly finding the true source of his condition and checking the welts that marked him. Legolas, still concerned, dropped to his knees beside Elrond, taking Estel's small hand in his own. Elrond did not object, in fact, the prince being near to Estel comforted the boy and ceased his squirming as his father inspected him. Elrond took Estel's face in his hands and gazed into the huge, silver, misted eyes.

"Oh, _ion-nîn_, who did this to you?" he asked. Estel began sobbing again, and had to be wrapped tightly in Elrond's arms to calm down. As Estel released another wave of tears onto his father's shoulder, Legolas explained what had happened.

"I told him that you would never turn him away for what race he belongs to," the elf prince murmured. "I hope I spoke true." Elrond nodded and stroked the back of his son's head. Before he could speak, the small group was interrupted as a fuming Arwen burst into the room, her dark brown hair disheveled, her fair cheeks flushed with rage. All eyes turned to her, surprised.

"I _swear_," she whispered in what was almost a hiss, "I will _kill_ whatever being inflicted this upon my brother. He will be dead before he even knows who it was who stole his life away!" Estel raised his head and stared at his sister with huge eyes that still glistened softly with pain.

"Please, sister," he whispered. "Don't do that." Arwen seemed to visibly melt and she fell to her knees beside the young boy, shifting her dress out of the way. She grabbed Estel's hand gently in her own as her own tears fell down her cheeks. Legolas stood quietly to his feet to let the twins reach their human brother, moving back to the other side of the room for easy access if needed, but giving the family the time and space they deserved. Calen also took the example and left the room, nodding once in the prince's direction before leaving.

"No one deserves to go through pain like yours simply because you are raised differently than others," Arwen whispered, her voice broken. She brushed Estel's cheek with the back of her cool fingers. "Especially one so young." The twins, now accommodating the place Legolas had just been, reached out and comforted their brother simply with their touch, not knowing exactly what to say. Elrond still held the boy in his arms.

"So…so you don't hate me?" Estel sniffed, his voice small. He gazed at each member of his family in turn.

"No!" they all said at once, the vehemence in their tones causing the young boy to flinch. He huddled slightly lower in his foster father's arms.

"We don't hate you, Estel," Elrond whispered. "Whatever made you think that?" Estel fiddled with the hem of Elrond's sleeve. He always had a habit of fingering whatever was on hand if he were nervous or at a loss of what to say.

"I'm human."

"We do not hate you simply because you are different from us," Arwen murmured. "In fact, we love you more because of it. Those rounded ears are rather dashing." She played lightly with one of his ears, causing him to giggle.

"Maybe I should get my ears rounded," Elrohir muttered jokingly, wanting to raise Estel's spirits. "Ada? May I?"

"A rounded-eared elf," El said, rolling his eyes. "That's a new idea." He cuffed his twin lightly on the head.

"Absolutely not," Elrond responded to his youngest twin's question. "That is Estel's style and it will remain only Estel's style in this family, thank you." He smiled despite the authoritative tone he was giving his offspring.

"It would only look silly, anyway," Estel piped up. Ro smiled.

"How would you know?" he asked. Estel only giggled and burrowed deeper into Elrond's arms. The elven lord tugged the boy closer.

"Estel, know this, you are my son and you always will be, no matter what race you are from," Elrond whispered.

"And you will always be our brother," Elladan put in, smoothing the curly locks back from Estel's face gently as the three elven siblings moved in to surround and comfort their brother. Estel huddled beneath the warmth and consolation of his family, closing his eyes and letting their love wash over him.

Legolas, standing at the other side of the room, suddenly felt like an intrusion at such a precious moment. He crept quietly away, silently closing the door behind him to give the family some peace. He walked away with a troubled heart. He was happy that Estel had such a loving and caring family, of course, but Legolas realized that he slightly envied the young boy. The little one had the only thing that had always been a fond dream to the elven prince, but had not been able to have for too long: the love of a true family. Legolas felt unbearably alone in this world. He had friends, yes, but what he really needed was the undying love that could only come from family.

Legolas walked from the entrance and to the stables. Khílya, munching happily on oats, looked up at the approaching elf and joyously greeted the friend that had raised her since she was a small foal. She nuzzled his shoulder, silently asking if they could go for a ride, and to her delight, the door of the stable swung open and she was able to step out. There was nothing more she loved than riding with her elven friend through the trees. She loved the elf dearly, he treated her as his own, not as horse and master, as she had so commonly seen among other beasts.

She nickered softly as Legolas swung up onto her back and gripped her mane tightly. With a simple Elvish command, he led her beneath the canopy of the trees at a light trot. Khílya murmured happily and tossed her mane, glad to be free of the stables and out beneath the trees. She loved them almost as much as her elf did.

Legolas breathed in deeply, enjoying his solitude under the trees. It was beginning to grow dark and the stars were appearing. He loved the night more than the day. The darkness of it was comforting, and the soft noises were soothing on his keen elvish ears and his slightly hurting heart. If he could not find comfort from another, he would take advantage of the seclusion and try to heal his inward wounds himself. He was not particularly upset about having to sooth his own hurts; in fact, he almost preferred it. It was something he had grown accustomed to doing after his mother's death.

Khílya whinnied softly in fear as the sound of wolf howls echoed over the horizon, her tail flicking uncertainly as she backpedaled slightly. The howls were unusually closer than they had been last night or the night before, do not think she had not heard. She was an elven horse, there were four things that separated her from normal horses: she was gifted with enormously long life (she was already nearly twenty-two years of age), her body was sturdier than that of regular horses, she was smarter than normal horses, and she had excellent hearing. Her ears now were swiveling in all directions, trying to pick up the source of where the howls were coming from. Saying that the wolves put her on edge was an understatement.

Legolas patted her neck and whispered soothing Elvish into her ear, attempting to calm her down. She did, but her tail was still like a whip in the air as she flicked it back and forth. It took some amount of coaxing on Legolas' part, but he eventually got the horse to move forward again. That happened only when the wolves' howls ceased, which took quite some time. Legolas soon entered a clearing, above which the starry sky was clearly visible, helping his heart. He slid gracefully from the back of his mount and told Khílya to stay beneath an enormous beech tree in Elvish, warning her not to stray too far in her grazing. She snuffled in agreement and nuzzled his shoulder, still uneasy about the wolves being so close. He comforted her quickly and stroked her side before leaping nimbly onto the lowest branch of the tree.

He stood still on the limb for a moment, reaching out with his hands until they touched the smooth bark of the tree. He closed his eyes and concentrated deeply, throwing his awareness out into that of the tree, hooking onto its life source. The tree's branches quavered, having nothing to do with the wind. It seemed delighted to meet a woodland elf and eagerly accepted when the prince asked its permission to climb. Legolas always asked the trees he was about to climb for permission, for he did not want to offend them in any way. Trees were distantly related to having souls, for some could be rotten and evil, while others could be strong and good-willed. This one obviously had not met a woodland elf for quite some time and was happy to at least speak to someone.

With the agility of a squirrel, Legolas jumped to the branch above his head, hooking his hands around the think limb. He swung up and around the branch and landed at a crouched position, quickly rising to reach for the next branch. He had reached the near top of the tree in a matter of moments. Having centuries of experience made him quick when in the branches of a tree. He seated himself at the perfect place to watch the stars, the branches and leaves of the trees around him opened in what looked like a window, giving him an excellent view of the night sky. He rested his back against the thick trunk of the tree, one leg underneath him and the other hanging over the side of the limb that he unconsciously swung back and forth. He had not been among trees like this for a while and he was enjoying his time.

Far below him, Khílya pawed at the ground nervously, her large brown eyes searching the shadows for the presence' she knew was there and could feel growing like a shadow elongating beneath the rising sun. Something was definitely not right and her instincts told her enough facts about the current situation to know that they had to leave quickly. She raised her head to bellow a warning to her elf, but the call came too late, for whatever had been hunting them leaped swiftly from the shadows with deadly intent.

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"Thank you, Ada," Estel murmured into his father's chest. He turned to his siblings, who still surrounded him. "Thank you all." They smiled down at him, their eyes bright.

"For what?" Elrohir asked.

"For loving you?" Elladan responded, a similar questioning tone in his voice.

"That would be like thanking the trees for growing or the sun for rising!" Arwen said, ruffling the boy's unkempt curly locks. Elrond gently brushed his human son's cheek with the back of his hand.

"Just know this, Estel," the elven lord whispered, "what those boys said to you today did not mean a thing. If they ever bother you again, call for help or run."

"Yes, Ada," Estel murmured.

"How big were these boys?" Ro asked.

"I think they were almost thirteen," the small boy responded. "They were a lot bigger than me. I tried to stop them from hurting me, but…" His words died as he thought back to what had occurred that very afternoon. He shuddered, making Elrond draw him tighter to his chest.

"It's all right, Estel," he murmured. "Just stay near our home and don't go too far without anyone with you."

"Yes Ada," Estel replied, closing his eyes and sighing in content. "What I really wanted to thank you for was being there for me. Legolas too." Elrond lifted his head, suddenly remembering the young elf prince. He scanned the room, but Legolas was not there, seeming to have left to give the family the privacy they needed. He bowed his head over his youngest son's and pressed his cheek against the dark locks of the boy's hair. He would thank the prince later for helping his son. He stood and carried Estel out onto the balcony, where there was fresh air and the quiet comfort of the nightly sounds. His elven children followed silently. They watched as Estel was placed in a chair on the balcony.

The quiet solitude of the family was interrupted as a knock came from the door. Elrond allowed entry, and a guard rushed in, breathless.

"My lord," he huffed. "Wolves have been spotted close to the city. We do not know what has driven them this far north. We think it might be because of game shortage in their territory, but we cannot be sure."

"Has anyone been hurt yet?" Elrond asked.

"Nay, lord," the guard replied with a curt shake of his head. "Yet they seem close to do so. They are thin and look hungry. They threatened one of the guards."

"Caution those around the area to stay in their homes and pen the livestock and horses. Make sure the wolves do not enter the city."

"Yes, my lord."

The guard left the room quickly. Elladan and Elrohir glanced worriedly at each other, wondering what this new piece of news could mean. Elrond, seeming to read their minds, held up a hand.

"It could be a game shortage, something could have driven them from their homes, whatever the reason, I am sure there is an explainable cause."

"Yes, but the wolves have not come this far north in centuries," Arwen whispered, for Estel was now asleep and she did not want to wake him. "They normally go west or even farther south, not north."

"I am not sure why—"

Elrond's words of reason were cut off abruptly as the sounds of howling and sharp barks were carried on the wind across the forest to their elven hearing. They could distinctly hear the sound of a horse neighing in the midst of the clamor, as well as a sound that raised the hair on their necks and made their faces pale in fear.

A scream.

One that sounded much like Legolas' voice.

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Oh, I'm bad! Cliffie mania! Muahahahahaha! (God, I'm so whacked. O.o) Reviews, please! Yesh...if you're generous I might let him live...-evil cackle-


	8. Attack, such a creative title, I know

Hey, all! I decided to update before I left to go to a show in New York this evening...just to save you some angst. I'm so nice. -grin- And I'm glad a lot of you share my opinion on that **stupid** ban! I REALLY want to tell you all personally that I loved the enthusiasm you gave me in your reviews, and that it made me want to update sooner, but I can't. -pout- I hope the petition gets up to numbah 200 soon! Thanx again for the encouraging reviews, and keep 'em comin' for the muses! (and the updates) Now, off to NY for the show! (I can't believe it! I'm actually _going_ somewhere today! Can it be? Am I getting...a-a _life?_ -gasp- I'm so whacked. lol)

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Disclaimer: Go away, lawyers; no one wants you here! -beat back lawyers with broom- I don't own them!

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ch. 8

Khílya shrieked just as a massive, hairy body crashed into hers, nearly making her lose her balance. Legolas spun in his seat on the branch and looked down to see the gray blurs of wolves emerging from the trees and surrounding the frightened mare, backing her into the tree trunk. Their long fangs were bared as they growled viciously at their prey, their mottled fur bristling. Khílya kicked out at the threats, desperately trying to keep their claws and canines away from her tender flesh.

Legolas instantly stood, drawing and notching his bow. He took aim at one of the deadly creatures circling his dear horse, letting the arrow fly with precise aim and hitting one of the beasts squarely between the shoulders. The horrid creature howled in anguish and snapped its teeth at the pain. The wolves looked up into the tree the projectile had come from and howled a challenge to the new enemy.

Legolas accepted quickly and leaped from the branch, landing nimbly on the one five feet below and continuing his way down. He dropped to the ground next to Khílya in a crouch, his bow already re-strung and ready for the massive battle about to come.

More wolves appeared from the darkness to help the first of them, and Legolas suddenly realized how huge they really were. They were nearly three times larger than a regular wolf, their claws sharp and deadly, their fangs almost as long as the knives that were sheathed at his back. They had an aura of unexplainable evil surrounding them and the elf realized that these beasts, unlike normal wolves, wanted to kill both from sheer pleasure and hunger. Legolas' heart gave a gallop of fear, but he held his position and rose from the crouch he had assumed to absorb the impact of his landing and began firing his arrows, most hitting their mark. One hit a wolf in the side of its throat, the other plunging into the chest of another.

But the beasts were not killed.

Confusion sparked through Legolas' conscience, but he had no time to ponder why the creatures were not dead before they pounced, their claws raised. He dropped his bow, for it would do no good at such a close proximity, drawing his knives quickly. He spun from underneath their claws and jaws and rolled into a crouch while Khílya bounded nimbly away from the leaping beasts, whinnying in fear. The pack split into two groups, one of five sprinting after Khílya while the other of six aimed at the armed elf.

He dodged the blow of one and slashed out with one of his knives, slicing the side of the wolf as it pounced by. It yelped in distress and landed with a slight stumble, whimpering as the pain of its wound reached its awareness. While that one recovered from the shock of the injury, the others all leaped at the elf before them, aiming for his throat. He twisted and spun, his knives reaching out with deadly precision and wounding many of the foul beasts facing him, but their hide was thick and could not be punctured so easily.

While Legolas was preoccupied with the other five, the one he had first injured circled around his back, its mouth open in what looked a devilish grin. Saliva dripped from its open jaws as it reveled in the fact it had caught its prey so unaware and it quickly pounced, colliding with Legolas' back and nearly knocking him to the ground. The elven prince's quick reflexes saved him, and he ducked at the right moment, sending the animal spinning off of his back. The beast's claws dug in and scraped harshly across his spine as it was sent reeling. Legolas bit back a scream as the long claws gouged him and straightened, forcing himself to steel back his pain and face these horrid animals.

They seemed to play with him, snapping their jaws and growling at him, surrounding him and making sure he had nowhere to go. Legolas' head whipped around as he saw he was surrounded. The smell of fear was obvious to the creatures and it only boosted their confidence, as well as the scent of his blood, which was trickling steadily down his back from the ragged gashes he had received from the first wolf. He braced himself as they closed in on him, their fur raised and evil eyes glinting maliciously.

Khílya was faring no better on the other side of the clearing. The five wolves attacking her did so without relent, one leaping at her after the other one had missed. She was tiring from clubbing them away with her hooves and kicking out at them. Her light brown coat was glossy with sweat and her large eyes wild as they roved over the threats, trying to decide what to do. Any normal horse would have bolted, but Khílya was loyal and would not leave her elf behind so willingly. She wanted to reach him and help him, but the wolves prevented that, blocking her path and refusing to allow her to pass. They had her backed up against a thick tree, fighting desperately for her life. She squealed in pain as a set of claws drove into her side, catching the soft flesh and creating a grievous wound. The scent of blood drew the wolves closer, and they each batted out with their claws, making more wounds on her strong form. Given time, she would tire from blood loss and the extremities they were pushing against her.

"Khílya!" her elf called to her from across the clearing, where he was battling the pack of wolves against him desperately. "_Thásl, _Khílya,_ thásl ect ar-tû!_ Run, Khílya, run and get help!" he shouted at her in Elvish making sure she understood. She hesitated, watching his lithe form carefully as he fought. The wolves around her growled.

"_Tenëry,_ Khílya!" he hollered. "Now!" She needed no more urging as the wolves around her slowly closed in, greedy glints in their eyes as they sniffed the scent of the blood she was losing. Quick as a threatened ferret, she lunged with her hooves and sent one of the animals reeling from her blow. Taking advantage of the opening, she swiftly rushed from the circle of wolves, disappearing into the forest. Two of the wolves rushed after her while the other three went to help with the elf.

Legolas was not faring well. He was beginning to tire from beating back the bloodthirsty beasts, strong though he was. Yet even an elf can be pushed unwillingly to the edge of dropping, and the feeling of his strength draining was not a pleasant one. He struggled to stay focused and alert to the movements of his predators as they inflicted only more damage upon his being. They administered scratches and blows to his head that dizzied him for brief moments, but they did not kill him just yet. They wanted to have their fun with him first.

A wolf pounced forward and deftly knocked one of the knives out of the elf's hand with its paw, sending it spinning into the darkness. While Legolas turned to face the one that had unarmed one of his hands, another leaped forward and snatched the prince's wrist in its jaws, forcing the weapon from his fingers. He cried out sharply with the pain of the beast's fangs driving into his skin, yanking his arm quickly back. The wolf stepped back into line, and the whole pack seemed to take a moment to revel in their near victory. Legolas held his injured wrist against his side tightly, trying to concentrate past the pain. He was now faced with almost ten wolves and was utterly defenseless.

One of the smaller wolves could be patient no longer and leaped forward, crashing into Legolas' back and knocking the elf to the ground. His chin collided sharply with the ground, dimming his vision for a moment and sending his senses reeling with the sharp pain. The wolf on his back dug its claws unmercifully into his skin, piercing through the fabric of his tunic and forming tiny pinpoints of blood. But that amount of pain was only to keep the elf still. It leaned down with open jaws and snatched Legolas' shoulder in its teeth, stepping off of him and flipping him over onto his back, dragging him slightly backwards as if he were a prize it had won. It deftly shook him in its teeth, eliciting a cry of pain from the prince as its long fangs shifted in his shoulder.

Another wolf, this one bigger than the one that had a hold of the elf, pounced forward and grabbed his leg, throwing back its weight and trying to wrench Legolas from the jaws of the smaller one. Its goal was accomplished, the fangs ripping painfully from his shoulder and causing him to cry out again. He thumped heavily onto his back. The bigger wolf dragged the elf away from the smaller one, wanting the prey all for itself.

Another leaped forward and batted the wolf away with a snarl, taking the elf as its own by grabbing his already injured leg. Legolas began to struggle, and he kicked out at the jaws that had a hold of his calf, receiving a satisfactory yelp from the beast and getting his leg free. He quickly rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up from the ground, getting his feet underneath him and attempting to escape. He did not get far in his injured state, and two wolves swiftly caught up with him, tugging him to the ground again.

One clubbed the elf on the head as punishment for trying to get away, dazing him and sending the world spinning, while the other dug its jaws into his side. It gripped his slim form tightly between its teeth and lifted him halfway off of the ground, shaking him until its grip was ripped away with the force of which it was swinging the elf prince. The fangs tore away from his flesh, nearly taking a large bite of him as they did so. Legolas' screamed loudly in pain, the injury hurting more than he ever thought was possible. The world warped and spun in sickening twirls as he rolled away from the wolves, and he felt nauseous. Such a feeling was unpleasant and he was not used to it, for elves' immortal blood prevented them from getting sicknesses.

Legolas' stomach and everything around him lurched. He landed on his wounded side, the air ripped again with the sound of his cry. He tried to sit up, to get away from the horrid creatures torturing him, but his vision would not clear and the world continued to spin. He pushed himself from the ground feebly, hearing the wolves coming up behind him for another round of playing their sharp barks sounding like taunting laughter. His stomach heaved once again and he retched from the pain in his injuries and the pressure of the situation. He felt teeth grasp his already injured wrist, and he knew that he was going to die. It was not the way he would have chosen it, but the fact was unavoidable.

Legolas whispered a prayer in Elvish to whatever god or goddess that would care to hear it.

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Khílya, racing forward through the trees, heard the elf she had left behind scream in pain, and her racing heart twinged as she was forced to keep running and not go back to help him. She heard the two wolves behind her keeping pace, but ignored them as she ran on, desperate to help her elf in any way she could.

Khílya screeched in pain and surprise as claws dug deeply into her left haunch, raking cruelly over her side before withdrawing. She stumbled slightly, but did not break stride, despite the new pain that had been added to the others. The wolves snarled and snapped their jaws, seeming to curse in their own twisted language. Khílya tried to run faster as they dogged after her, relentlessly pounding on her trail, the sounds of their barks ringing in her ears. She risked her fast pace as she stopped and kicked out at one of the wolves, catching it beneath the chin and snapping its head back, an ear-shattering crack coming from its neck as it was snapped. The wolf fell to the ground, dead before it even hit the earth.

Khílya resumed her sprint, even as the other wolf raced after her, enraged at the death of its companion. It bounded forward and sturdy legs and pounced at the fleeing mare, its mouth open wide. Khílya neighed in surprise as the hound landed on her back, digging its claws into her flesh. She bucked and tossed beneath the beast, who was attempting to lunge for her throat for the killing shot. She threw the wolf from her back. It landed with a soft thump on the forest floor and tried to turn over to raise to its feet. Before it could do such a thing, Khílya reared and brought her hooves down upon the beast's head. Its movements stilled immediately.

Khílya, snuffling in satisfaction, bounded forward yet again to retrieve the help her elf had asked for.

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"Ada, what was that?" Estel asked, awakening abruptly to the sound of the scream. He gazed in confusion at his elven family, who were staring out at the forest, their bodies pressed against the railing. They all had recognized Legolas' voice in the scream and were all pale and sober as they tried to identify what was really going on. The sounds of the wolves could clearly be heard in the former quiet night air. They all heard another scream come from the forest. Estel huddled down into his father's arms as Elrond sat next to him to comfort him, tears of sheer horror at what he was hearing coursing down the young boy's cheeks.

Elladan and Elrohir swept quickly off of the balcony, running towards the entrance. They were going out there to help whatever poor soul was at the mercy of the beasts. Arwen sat next to the elven lord and tried to comfort Estel with him, but the boy suddenly leaped from the chair he was sitting on and raced after the twins. Elrond and Arwen followed, their hearts shadowed.

Estel ran after Elladan and Elrohir and emerged outside in the night air. The twins were pulling their horses from the stables with urgent Elvish words. Estel watched anxiously from the threshold, his eyes wide as the horrible noises of the wolves continued. Guards rallied together under Elladan's command, waiting patiently on their mounts for the twins to get themselves ready to ride out. The twins gathered their weapons quickly and leaped onto the backs of their horses.

A loud whinny forced all of their heads to snap around in time to see a bloodied mare come racing from the forest, screeching exigently. Arwen immediately recognized the horse bolting in their direction, and her fears were confirmed.

"It's Khílya!" Estel shouted, recognizing the horse only moments after his elven sister. The mare halted in front of the group of guards, rearing and tossing her head restlessly. She squealed again at the guards, pacing forward a few steps and then falling back, wanting them to follow her. Elladan understood and commanded his mount to follow the mare, who sprinted swiftly away, her fear for her elf spurring her speeds. The small band of warriors raced after the frightened and injured horse, disappearing into the trees. Estel whirled to face his father, his eyes huge with fear and horror.

"It was Khílya, Ada!" he whispered, his voice broken and harsh as he tugged at his father's robes. Elrond knelt down next to the distraught boy and wrapped him in his arms. "Where's Legolas, Ada, where is he? Is he going to be okay?" The elven lord swallowed tightly and gazed at the trees through which his sons and the guards had vanished. He did not answer to Estel's question, for he did not know how to respond.

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(I could've stopped here, but I'm gonna be nice this time.) -grin-

Khílya kept an extremely fast pace, dodging trees and shrubs blocking her path nimbly and efficiently. Elladan had a hard time keeping sight of the mare and urged his horse faster as the sounds of the wolves grew closer. He lost sight of Khílya, but it was obvious in which direction to go from where they were. They burst into the clearing, where Khílya was standing protectively over a still form on the ground, lashing out at the gigantic hounds with a ferocity that was rare in the usually gentle mare. She screeched angrily at the wolves, baring her blunt teeth and snorting. She was furious that these demons had hurt her elf so severely and was determined to make them pay for what they had done.

A wolf snapped at her legs, causing her to rear in an effort to keep herself away from the sharp fangs of the hound. The wolf only came closer, swiping at the mare with its claws and trying to reach the play toy they had lost to the horse. Khílya clubbed the wolf viciously in the head, causing the beast to yelp and leap quickly away or suffer another blow from the rage filled mount. The wolves fanned out and closed in on the mare, who stood over the still figure of her elf, half-crouching down to keep him protected from the lashing claws and teeth. She tossed her head and bravely stood her ground despite the fear emanating from her at the sight of the sharp talons aimed at her.

Before the wolves could take another cuff at the surrounded horse, a volley of arrows flew from the trees, piercing and startling many of the hounds. With surprised yelps and howls, they turned to face the new threat…only to sprint quickly away as eleven horses raced from the trees, snorting in disgust at the canines and batting them away from the wounded mare and her precious charge. The elves upon their backs fired deadly arrows at the wolves, sending them back into the darkness where they belonged. Elladan and Elrohir leaped from their mounts and strode to the frightened mare when all of the wolves had gone, slinging their bows back over their shoulders.

Khílya tossed her head and stamped at the ground when they approached, the adrenaline and fear she had felt still effecting her system. She chased the two elves farther away from the wounded elf prince lying beneath her, fearing that they were another threat. Hurriedly, Elladan and his twin spoke in soothing Elvish to calm the horse, explaining that they would need to see to her elf's wounds before he died. It took some coaxing, but Khílya eventually backed down, allowing them access to her elf. She knelt by his side, rubbing her velvety nose against his pointed ear in concern.

The twins had learned a great deal of healing from their father, but even they could not be prepared for the sort of wounds Legolas had sustained. They had not the supplies for the job. They were both equally horrified when they turned the prince over onto his back. The elf was covered with blood from three grievous injuries on his body. His breathing was ragged and shallow, his eyes tightly closed in pain. He had taken a severe beating from those wolves and would not live much longer if he was not properly cared for.

Elladan swiftly lifted the prince in his arms and placed him on the back of his horse, climbing smoothly up behind him. Khílya paced anxiously next to the horse that held her elf, not wishing to leave his side for even moments. Elladan's horse nickered softly and rubbed her neck in an effort to console her. Khílya calmed only momentarily. She trotted still at El's horse's side when they were heading back to Lord Elrond's home, her brown eyes always on the elf prince. Elladan wrapped an arm around Legolas' chest to keep him steady on the back on his horse. He felt the blood coming from the wound in Legolas' shoulder and lightly kicked his horse into a faster gait.

His attention was taken off of riding when Legolas moaned softly, shifting as consciousness slowly came back to him. When he was awake he instantly wished he was not. Shocking pain seemed to come from all points in his body and his head still spun horribly, doing nothing to help his already uneasy stomach. He hissed softly in pain as the horse's hoof slipped into a ditch, jolting him. Elladan's heart went out to the prince's pain. He slightly tightened his hold around Legolas' shoulders and urged his horse a little faster.

"W-what happened?" Legolas muttered, opening his eyes. They were clouded and glazed with pain, the once piercing blue a now dull gray. "Where…am I?"

"Hush and regain your strength," Elladan whispered in Elvish. "It is Elladan. We are taking you back to Elrond's home."

"Khílya…" Legolas moaned, his eyes closing again as he remembered his mount. An answering whinny came from his right, and a soothing brush of her nose across his fingers reassured him, and he relaxed as he fell into unconsciousness once again.

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See? He's not dead...but he doesn't look to good, does he? Oooh...ouch. He might yet live, if you send me reviews. -grin- Oh, and to the one reviewer who sent me chocolates, thank you very much! I LUV chocolate! - past full mouth of chocolate- I hope you all liked the chapter! Byes! -Copperfang


	9. Fever, yet another creative title, lol

A/N: Okay, I just got home from a two day trip to a river in NJ...don't ask me where, I have no idea...anywho, here's another update for ya. I said last time that if I got enough reviews, I would let Legolas live. I'm not going to tell you if I was satisfied or not, or if he's gonna live...hee...I'm gonna let you find that out for yourself. Enjoy!

(special thanks to Kelly! I never thought you would bother to read this!)

_**I severely hate that response ban!**__ Whoever created that rule is goin' down!_

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Disclaimer:It's all mine, _mine I tell you! _Wait, it's called a disclaimer. Sorry, silly me. It's not mine. -sheepish grin-

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ch.9 (is it nine? i don't know, i lost count, lol)

Elrond waited impatiently with Arwen and Estel in the doorway of their home, waiting for the twins to return. He held Estel's hand tightly in his own. The boy sniffled and tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that his elven friend might not be alive. His heart wrenched with worry, as did Arwen's. She stood slightly apart from her father and brother, her eyes searching the woods for the group. The three of them were silent as they waited. They never could have imagined such a thing happening in Rivendell. Its woods were normally peaceful and mild.

"Ada!" Estel shouted, pointing. He tugged urgently on his father's robe sleeve. The group of horses and their riders were returning. The horses were slightly scratched from the battle with the wolves, the elves also a little battered, but everyone was fine. Everyone but the slumped form held in Elladan's arms, the golden hair falling about his proud and bruised face. Blood covered a great amount of his body and the wounds he had received from the wolves were clearly visible.

"Legolas!" Estel shouted, running quickly forward as the elven prince was taken from the horse's back and set gently upon the ground. Elrond strode swiftly after his youngest son, his brow furrowed in a deep frown of anxiety. The elf guards moved away when the elven lord approached. Estel was already by his friend's side, gripping the cold fingers in his small hands. Elrond knelt down beside the still form of the young elf, his heart clenching as he saw the deep gashes and bites that marred the prince's normally flawless skin. Elrond checked Legolas' heartbeat. It was slightly faster than it should have been, as was his breathing, but he was better than Elrond had expected from one as severely thrashed. Legolas was indeed strong.

Noting how dim Legolas' elven glow was, he quickly motioned for the guards to move the prince to his room. Two elves lifted the young elf gently between them, careful not to irritate any of the injuries. Khílya hovered uncertainly beside them, following as they made their way to the house, but a firm yet gentle hand stopped her. Five more sets of hands joined the first, pulling her slowly back towards the stables. The loyal mare bucked against them. She wanted to stay by her elf's side. He had been like a parent to her, raising her and treating her only with love, she was now as protective of him as a mother watching over her colt, and did not want to leave him behind as grievously wounded as he was.

Elvish thrummed in her ears, but she tilted them back angrily and the soothing words went unheeded. If it were possible for a horse to scream, she would have, but she settled on screeching, which was as close to screaming as she could get. There had never before been a louder or more restless horse. She tugged against the hands restraining her until the elves were forced to loop a rope around her neck to keep her back, for just holding onto her mane would have hurt her. Little did they know that they only hurt her more when they slid the rope over her head. They dealt her a wound to her pride and trust as they pulled her forcefully over the dust and pushed her into a stable. The rope remained around her neck, for none wished to get close enough to remove it. When horses as stubborn as Khílya got into a rage it was best to leave them be. They left her thrashing uselessly in the stable, the rough hemp of the rope digging into her already injured flesh, making her bleed. She felt utterly helpless trapped in the small wooden box and she had never hated the confines of a stable more.

Khílya kicked out at the door again, wishing she could break the sturdy wood down. It held though, and it was a tall door that was up to her chest. There was not enough room in her stable to leap over it and she tossed her head from side to side, hating the feeling of the cage she had been forced into. She wanted to see her elf. She wanted to help him. Yet she was not to be released. She rested her head huffily against the door, her brown eyes roving angrily around as if daring anyone to get too close. Now that her rage and adrenaline had faded away, the wounds the wolves had given her earlier stung and she wished someone would see to her hurts. No one came, though, and she had to deal with the pain for the rest of the night.

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tension builds...lol

"Is he going to be alright, Ada, is he?" Estel asked in a small voice as Legolas was lain on the bed. Elrond began hurriedly removing the prince's tunic.

"I'm not sure, Estel," he muttered, preoccupied with his task. Arwen placed her slim hands on the boy's shoulders as a comfort, but her own beautiful face was troubled by Legolas' condition. She watched silently as the shirt concealing the elven prince's wounds was removed, revealing the horrible state he was in.

Legolas' thin frame was covered with bruises and scratches, but that was not what concerned Elrond. What concerned him was the deep gouge that had been carved into the younger elf's side, still bleeding freely. Pus slowly oozed from the wound. The flesh around it was jagged and torn. Elrond also noticed a bloody gash on Legolas' shoulder as well, in no better shape than the one on his side. They were clearly infected and would need a deep cleaning.

"Elladan, get the salves needed from my office. You know the ones. Get bandages as well. Elrohir, get water and cloths, we're going to have to staunch the bleeding," Elrond ordered quickly, noting how Legolas' natural glow was slowly becoming dimmer and his breathing more ragged and uneven.

The twins nodded grimly and quickly strode from the room.

"Arwen, please put Estel in bed. I would rather him not having to witness this," the elven lord whispered. As soon as the command left Elrond's lips the boy shook his head quickly.

"No, Ada, I wish to stay," he said, tears forming in his wide silver eyes. "I do not want to leave Legolas now."

"Estel, please do as I say," Elrond argued. He sighed and passed a hand over his face. "What you will see will only grieve you more." He was touched by the young boy's loyalty, but Estel should not witness what was going on in this room.

Arwen slowly turned Estel around, murmuring soothing things in Elvish to calm the hysterical boy. He let the tears fall freely from his eyes and slide down his cheeks as he shook his head.

"No, I am staying, Ada," he said defiantly. "It is my wish. I can't leave him like this, I can't. Please…" Elrond searched his son's eyes for a moment before nodding to Arwen.

"Seat yourselves in that armchair over there," he ordered as the twins returned with the supplies needed. "You must not get in the way." Arwen placed Estel on her lap and held him close as he watched the scene over her protective embrace. Elladan and Elrohir knelt down next to Legolas' bed, across from their father, and awaited instruction.

"Alright, Elrohir, bathe his wounds," Elrond said sternly. "Elladan, help me make the correct salve for Legolas' injuries." Elladan grabbed the salves and herbs he had gathered from his father's office and walked around the bed, placing himself next to the elven lord and helping to measure out the certain ingredients they needed to make the special medicine for the prince's wounds.

Elrohir doused the cloth in cool water from the basin he had brought and gently washed the blood from the wounds. He tried to be careful, yet Legolas stirred restlessly beneath his placid touch, moaning softly in distress. He tried to shy away from the treatment being administered to him, but the younger twin held him gently down as he worked. He earned his patience and soothing touch from years of working with wounded warriors, and now he was using every skill he had learned from experience to make this less painful for the prince.

Elladan worked swiftly with his father, adding the right herbs his father indicated into a stone basin on the table. The contents inside had become thick, exactly the way they needed it, and they turned back to their patient. Elrohir had just finished cleaning the wounds that scarred Legolas' torso. Elrond and his son knelt down next to the bed, taking the salve in a cloth and holding it readily over the deep wound on his side.

"Hold him down, Elrohir," the elven lord instructed calmly. "I'm afraid this will hurt him." The younger twin did as he was asked and lay across the still form of the elven prince, gripping his forearms tightly. He noticed suddenly how hot Legolas' skin was, and yet how he was trembling slightly beneath his palms.

"Ada…" he said uncertainly. Elrond glanced at the younger twin, but did not respond. He and Elladan pressed the bandage to the wound. Legolas jerked and beneath them, a cry of pain escaping his lips. He attempted to twist away, but was held firmly down by Elrohir, whose concern was growing. Legolas' eyes snapped open, but were unseeing, and the youngest twin saw how the pupils were dilated almost to the edges of the irises. Legolas thrashed beneath the stinging medicine being applied to him in fevered delirium, groaning softly through his teeth.

"_Daro, saes, daro_…" Legolas muttered quietly in Elvish, still trying to flinch away from the ones causing him pain. "Stop, please, stop…" Elrond's heart wrenched, yet he showed no emotion outside. The pain Legolas was going through was necessary. He counted down the seconds that required him to hold the salve to the wound, wishing for Legolas' sake that the time would go faster. Behind him, Estel buried his face into Arwen's chest, trying to block out the prince's pleading.

"_Daro, saes, naegra_…_côeni_… " Legolas moaned, his bare chest heaving, his blank eyes roving the room. "Stop, please, hurts…no…" His eyes squeezed shut in pain, and when they opened once again, they were even more confused and frightened than ever. It was the most distressed anyone had ever seen Legolas.

With surprising speed for one as injured as he was, Legolas reached over and grabbed Elrond's sleeve in his fist, his eyes still staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

"I cannot see the stars," he whispered hoarsely. "Nana, I want Ada. I want to go home." Elrond turned his worried gaze to the prince and wordlessly commanded Elladan to hold the bandage with the medicine to Legolas' side while he inched closer to the younger elf's head. The prince's fist was still balled in the fabric of his robe, and Elrond gently pried the fingers away before holding Legolas' hand firmly in his own.

"I want to go home," Legolas repeated, staring at some specter all save him couldn't see. Elrond noted the glazed look and dilated pupils in Legolas' eyes, and he pressed his hand to the prince's brow. Legolas jerked slightly beneath the touch and turned wild eyes to the elven lord, seeming to stare right through him.

"It killed her," he whispered, his voice rising with each shaking syllable. "I let it kill her. I did nothing. It was all my fault, all of it!" Elrond smoothed the golden hair away from Legolas' face and lay his palm on the prince's brow, feeling the fever that had risen from the injuries.

"_Sûicen_, Legolas, _sûicen_," he murmured. "_Naesôc-ý huiln faë. Sûicen, cuithé, ïoneh_ _un edi-veintê_. Relax, Legolas, calm. None of it was your fault. Relax, child, son of the forest." The soothing Elvish words calmed the prince down some, and he rested back against the bed, breathing deeply. "Forgive me," he hissed through his teeth. Elrond tightened his hold on the trembling fingers he held and shook his head.

"There is nothing to forgive," he whispered. Elladan removed the salve after the time was up and efficiently bound the wound with a soft bandage, using his gentlest touch so as not to stress the injured elf any further.

"Get ready to apply the salve to his shoulder," Elrond ordered quietly. The twins nodded, though they dreaded the thought of putting Legolas through another cruel ordeal such as the one through which he had just suffered. They quietly repeated the process, coming with much the same results, though it did not last as long, for the elven lord remained by Legolas' side, whispering soothingly in Elvish to take the prince's delirious mind away from the pain his sons were inflicting upon him. Estel huddled deeper into Arwen's arms, hearing the wounded elf's anguished cries and pleas, and wishing desperately for his family to stop hurting him so. Tears coursed down his cheeks and sank into the soft fabric of his sister's dress. He buried his face into her side, letting her wrap her arms tighter around him. Soon his ears could take no more of the distressed tirade coming from the elf and he slid out of Arwen's arms. She made a grab for him but did not reach him in time and he rushed to his foster father's side, reaching out to gently brush the golden hair away from Legolas' face.

The elven prince froze at Estel's light touch, his eyes flicking back and forth in confusion. He released Elrond's hand and reached over his head to where he had sensed the boy. A small slender hand grabbed his own and held it tight. Legolas felt tears on his fingers as the boy pressed his cheek against the limp hand held in his. Estel reached out with his other hand and gently brushed the prince's cheek with his fingers.

"I'm here Legolas," the small boy whispered, and the elf relaxed visibly at the soft words. "Don't worry, I'm here. You need not worry, anymore." Legolas' breathing deepened and he closed his clouded eyes slowly, allowing the presence of the boy to comfort him. Elladan, amazed at how simply his brother had calmed the feverish elf, removed the medicine and bound the wound, relieved that the prince was not in pain anymore. Instead of moving immediately to the injury on Legolas' leg, they let him rest a few minutes and recover whatever shred of reality he still had.

Estel continued to hold his hand and speak soothingly to him, telling him of how he had one time found a raccoon's nest, where she was nursing her young. The others in the room highly doubted Legolas heard a word the young boy said, thinking that the prince was only comforted by the sound of the little one's voice. As Estel described the raccoon infants to his near unconscious friend, Elladan saw to the wound on Legolas' leg. The gash itself was not particularly bad, but the muscles and tendons in Legolas' leg were stretched and torn from when the wolves had dragged him across the ground and when they had played a game of tug-of-war with him. Elladan winced sympathetically as he pressed the medicine to the gash, hearing Legolas' hiss of pain.

"I know, Legolas, I know," he muttered compassionately as the elf he was tending to tried to pull his leg away. He held a firm grip on the area just above the wound, almost an inch below from Legolas' knee. Elrohir moved in quickly to help hold the limb still.

"Keep talking to him, Estel," Elladan instructed. The boy did as he was told and launched into another tale of his mischief making with his siblings, trying desperately to distract the elf from the pain. He leaned in close and whispered in Legolas' pointed ear, pressing the side of his head to the prince's temple. He just wanted the young elf to know that he was nearby. Legolas was soothed by the voice in his ear, and he steadily relaxed, his grip on the boy's hand never lessening. The twins bound the last wound and covered him with a light blanket, trying to help ease Legolas' furious shivering. His skin was still hot to the touch in a fever, but his delirious mind was now relaxed. Legolas opened his eyes, which were not as glazed or clouded with confusion as they had been before, and gazed first at Elrond, then at Estel with a small smile of gratitude. Then his eyes slowly closed, and his fingers went limp in Estel's hand.

"Ada?" the boy questioned the elf lord. Elrond smiled and shook his head as he wrung out a cloth and placed it on Legolas' burning brow.

"He merely sleeps, _ïon-nîn_," Elrond reassured his son. "He needs the rest after what he has gone through tonight."

"His eyes are closed," Estel observed worriedly, remembering that elves normally sleep with their eyes open.

"That only reveals how weary he really is," Elrond whispered, binding the minimal injury on Legolas' wrist from when the wolf had bit him to force him to drop his weapon. "Those wolves were cruel."

"That still troubles me, Ada," Elladan whispered from the other side of the room, where he was cleaning up the herbs and salves they had used. "Those were no ordinary wolves. They were far too large, and…I sensed…a certain intelligence that a normal wolf would not have, as well as an aura of…"

"Evil," Elrohir finished for his twin with a shudder. "I think that is why the wounds they gave Legolas affected him in such a way. I think they passed some evil to him somehow." Elrond frowned at this news and rested his palm against the prince's fevered brow, closing his eyes and concentrating deeply. He did sense a shadow hanging over Legolas' mind, hovering just beyond awareness. For now it was mild, not truly affecting anything, yet it was there nonetheless. Elrond would have to extract it later. For now he would let Legolas rest and try to break his fever.

"Elladan, please make some tea and gather some Banii herbs," Elrond instructed, taking a cool cloth and placing it on Legolas' forehead. "You know how to make the medicinal tea."

"Yes, Ada," Elladan replied quietly, leaving the room. Arwen stood from the chair and looked over her father's shoulder at the pale elf resting on the bed.

"He will recover, right?" she asked. Elrond sighed and lifted the cloth from Legolas' brow.

"Most likely," he replied. "The worst that can come from this is he will be feeling miserable for a few days, and to an elf, of course, it seems like your body is failing you. He will be fine, Arwen, do not fret." The maiden nodded and fell silent. Estel watched his friend's still face nervously, absently twirling a lock of Legolas' golden hair between his fingers. He still held the elf's hand, not quite ready to let it go just yet. He started and leaned in closer when Legolas moaned softly and shifted on the bed. His eyes slowly opened, the look dazed and confused, but not delirious as they had been before. They focused on the worried faces around them and instantly clouded in remembrance and pain.

"How do you feel?" Elrond asked softly, placing the cool cloth on his brow again.

"It…hurts to…breathe," Legolas managed to say, grimacing as the words rasped from his throat. Elrond reached forward and brushed a lock of hair away from his face while grabbing the nearby cup of water. He lifted Legolas partially from the bed and held the cup to his lips, urging him to drink. Legoals did not argue and took a few droughts of water before sinking wearily back down onto the bed.

"Alright, hush now and rest," Elrond murmured. Legolas did not respond, only nodded feebly and closed his eyes.

"Has…Khílya been…cared for?" he asked, his voice barely above the whisper of a breeze. Elrond inwardly winced as he suddenly remembered the rowdy mount being pulled for the stables.

"She…has been unapproachable for a time," the elven lord settled on answering. "None could get near enough to help." Legolas chuckled weakly, a small smile on his face.

"That sounds…exactly like her," he muttered fondly. "Stubborn horse…" He coughed slightly and jerked, moaning when the motion disturbed his wounds. Elrond put a hand on the prince's chest to steady him and felt the rushing heartbeat beneath his palm.

"Where is Elladan with that tea?" he uttered to himself, taking the cloth from Legolas' brow once again and feeling the prince's temperature. It had risen slightly from the last time he had checked. He turned his head away and looked towards the door.

"Elladan!" he called his eldest twin. "Hurry with the medicine!"

"My stomach…" Legolas groaned, curling an arm around his middle.

"Elladan!"

"I'm here, Ada," a voice called, and the twin stepped through the door with a mug of tea in his hand. "I am sorry it took as long as it did. I could not find the Banii herb." Elrond nodded and wordlessly and took the drink from his son's hand.

"Elrohir, help him sit up," he ordered. The youngest twin snaked an arm around Legolas' shoulders and gently lifted him up, moving slowly so as not to twinge the newly bound injuries. Elrond offered the drink to the prince, but he pushed it quickly away, breaking from Elrohir's grip and rolling onto his side, breathing deeply.

"I don't…feel well…" he moaned, closing his eyes. Suddenly realizing what the disoriented elf meant, Elrond swiftly grabbed an empty basin from a nearby table. Legolas retched for the second time that night, the water he had just ingested leaving his system. (aww...poor guy...) As the elven prince recovered from his sudden regurgitation, Elrond nodded to Elrohir, who lifted Legolas back up again. Elrond waited until Legolas had ceased coughing.

"He cannot keep even water down," Elrond murmured worriedly, almost to himself, then to Legolas, "Drink this, quickly. You will feel better."

"If…such a thing…is possible," Legolas moaned as he accepted the medicine. He was forced to drink the whole cup of warm liquid, even though he had wanted to stop when he was halfway through. The medicine left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth and it churned in his unsettled stomach, wanting to leave the way it had come in.

"Here, lie down," Elrond instructed, pushing gently down on the elf's chest. "It will settle the medicine." Legolas did as he was told and his stomach soon stopped protesting so strongly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A headache was beginning to form behind his closed lids and it made him feel worse than before, as if he did not feel horrible already. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and he was shivering, yet sweating. He wished his body would just make up its mind and stop grieving him in such a way.

"Tell me…is this what it is like…being mortal, Estel?" Legolas asked, opening his eyes and gazing at the boy that stood over him. He allowed a smile to creep onto his face. Estel stared uneasily down at him, a smile of his own slipping on despite his troubled heart. He nodded.

"Sort of," he whispered. "Except when I get sick, I'm not as bloody." Legolas chuckled lightly and closed his eyes again. He could feel sleep pulling at him. Elrond, seeming to read his mind, leaned over and kissed the feverish brow of the prince in hopes of a relieving sleep.

"Sleep, young one," he murmured as consciousness crept away from his patient. "You will feel better soon."

_I hope so_.

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See? He's alive...for now...oh, I feel evil at the moment. Someone stop me, before I do something we all might regret! Oh, and thanx to all my reviewers (especially the ones who sent me chocolate! -squee- Chocolate! Yum!) I really appreciate you reading this! Till next time -Copperfang (the one and only)


	10. Bad news: not what u think dont kill me!

A/N: Sorry for the late update. (I know it's not late compared to the updates some other authors do, but it's late for me.) The new school I'm going to has this "orientation" thing two weeks before school starts, where everyone gets to know each other through activities and stuff. It lasted for three days, and I was always not in the mood to update whenever I came home. But it's over now, so yay! And plus, I have two weeks to chill and update like, every day! _squee!_

Thank you for your lovely reviews; they made me happy! I wonder how far that petition has gone or if it's done. I would really love to start talking to you soon; I feel so distant from all of you, which makes me sad. -pout- I don't like being distant from my readers. I had really started to meet very wonderful people. Aww...but, the good news is: I gots more chocolate! And I give every kind reviewer an equal share for being so nice to me! Thank you so much!

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Disclaimer: It's _not mine_! We swears! -looks around and sees lawyers gone- Uhm, well...I guess...they are. -cringes, expects lawyers to come in and bombarde her with contracts and law suits- -carefully opens eye- Yes...they're mine. They're mine! _Mine!_

Lawyers: -rush into room- Take that back.

Me: I take it back, they're not mine. Phooey. I can still have fun with them, though. Hee...

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ch. 10

The twins and Arwen left the room to go to bed, but Estel would not be moved. He insisted on keeping a vigil over the sick prince with his father. Elrond tried arguing with the boy, but Estel had a stubborn and loyal heart and did not give in, forcing the elven lord to accept the fact that Estel would indeed be staying by Legolas' side throughout the night. 

Elrond settled himself into the armchair Arwen had been occupying while Estel knelt by the side of the bed, holding once again onto Legolas' hand. His eyes never left the still face for even a moment. Legolas slept soundly, occasionally waking himself by coughing, but other than that he was fine and his state was stable.

The night dragged slowly by. Estel's eyelids soon drooped involuntarily, and he sat down with his back to the bed, his head resting back against the mattress. He was fast asleep within minutes, his hand sliding freely from Legolas'. Elrond smiled at the sight and settled back into the chair. He was a bit tired, of course, but he needed to monitor the prince's condition for any changes, good or bad.

He stayed in the chair for hours, seeing if any changes would occur. None did, and the elven lord became slightly weary. Elves had longer endurance than humans, they could go without sleep for a long time, but it had been a trying night and all Elrond wanted to do was sleep.

Elrond's head snapped up as he was awakened by the sound of a wheezing cough. He had not realized he had fallen asleep. He looked over at Legolas, who was restlessly turning over after coughing and pulling the blanket up to his shoulder with a shiver. He slowly relaxed and fell asleep once again. His breath was rasping in his throat. Elrond stood from his chair and listened intently to the prince's breathing, his brow furrowed. The ill elf's cough was only getting worse and lasting longer than it had before. It was strange.

Elrond left the room to retrieve another medicinal tea for Legolas' cough. He entered his darkened office, searching for the right herbs he would need. He started a fire in the fireplace and hung a kettle over the flame, waiting for the water inside to warm. He opened a cabinet and collected the correct herbs he would need for the tea. He measured out the right amounts of each leaf and root and collected them in a pile, waiting patiently for the water to heat to the right temperature to add the herbs. While he waited he leafed through a book to see if there were other concoctions he could make to ease the prince's pain.

Elrond suddenly jumped and the hair rose on the back of his neck when he heard an anguished cry come from Legolas' bedroom.

"ADA!"

Elrond rushed quickly down the hall and burst into the room. Estel sat on the bed behind Legolas, who was sitting up. He was leaned over and his head hung between his shoulders. He was coughing harshly, his breath rasping and broken as he tried to inhale. He could breathe out, but nothing came back in, and he felt his lungs compress with each attempt to attain oxygen. His head spun from his lack of air and his heart's beat was becoming steadily slower.

"Ada, he can't breathe," Estel said worriedly, his silver eyes large and frightened. "Help him!"

Elrond rushed forward and the boy moved out of the way to allow his father to work. The elven lord pulled Legolas back until the prince's back rested against his chest, his head on Elrond's shoulder. Legolas' struggles to breathe were becoming more and more feeble as he lost the battle. The elder elf spoke soothingly in Elvish as he rubbed the spot on Legolas' chest just over his heart, willing for the young one's lungs to work properly. He forced the prince's lungs to open and for a few moments did the breathing for the younger elf, letting his magic remind the lungs how to do what they had temporarily forgotten. Legolas slowly quieted down, the rasping becoming a soft wheeze as he was able to obtain air once more. He fell limply against Elrond's chest, extremely weary and his heart beating rapidly from the fright he had just gone through. Being suffocated by your own body was a scary thing.

Elrond let Legolas rest a moment, his own heart pumping quickly. That had been close. If he had stayed away any longer…

The elven lord turned to see the twins and Arwen burst into the room, their eyes wide. They glanced over the scene before them and strode forward.

"Ada, what happened?"

"He couldn't breathe," Estel answered for his foster father. "He was coughing and then he couldn't breathe in again. I thought…" Tears tacked slowly down his cheeks. In truth, he thought his friend had been about to die. He had never been so scared in his short life.

"Arwen, please sit with Legolas," Elrond ordered. "I must get the tea he needs to help his lungs. If this happens again, call me." The female elf nodded and took her father's place, allowing the prince to rest against her while Elrond left the room. Legolas seemed unconscious again; he did not respond to Arwen's Elvish.

"Estel, are you alright?" Elladan asked, kneeling down next to the bed. Estel was shaking uncontrollably and his eyes were still wide and fixed on the elven prince.

The boy only nodded, tears running down his cheeks. He let Elladan and Elrohir pull him into their embrace and allowed them to comfort him.

Elrond was back soon with a mug of tea in his hand. He made his way swiftly to the bed and sat down in front of Legolas, reaching out. The young elf's fever had lowered a few notches since he had given him the medicine. Elrond deftly shook the prince, enough to wake him but mild enough to not twinge his injuries.

"Wake, Legolas, awaken," he called in Elvish, willing the young elf to stir. Legolas moaned softly and opened his eyes. He raised his head and stared blankly at the elf lord holding the mug of tea out to him.

"You must drink this, Legolas," Elrond continued to use Elvish in order to be understood by the disoriented prince. Switching back to the common language, he commanded: "Arwen, help him drink the tea." His daughter did as she was asked and took the mug from Elrond's hand, shifting Legolas until she sat beside him and was supporting his weight on her arm. She held the cup to his lips. Reacting reflexively, he swallowed the liquid that entered his mouth until the tea was gone. Elrond and Arwen gently laid him down again and covered him with a blanket. He was already asleep before his head even touched the pillow. Elrond realized that his hands were trembling lightly. He forced himself to stop. He sat down on the bed and sighed wearily.

"Ada, what happened?" Elrohir asked. "Why couldn't he breathe?"

"Legolas' health is delicate right now," Elrond explained. "He is fighting the illness and shock from the wounds. I am not fully sure what just occurred, but the medicine should help him. Arwen, please stay with him tonight. If I am to help him more tomorrow I need rest. If anything happens, call me."

The maiden nodded and sat down next to Legolas' still form. The twins left the room now that the excitement had passed.

"Estel, you need sleep too," Elrond whispered, holding out his hand for the boy to take. "Come with me. Legolas will be fine with your sister and you can see him more tomorrow." Estel reluctantly rose and took his father's hand, his gaze never leaving the elven prince. Arwen nodded and waved him away.

"Go now," she murmured. "I will watch him." Estel slipped from the room with Elrond and went to his room. Arwen sighed and glanced at Legolas before standing and settling into the armchair to wait for night to pass.

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Elrond passed by Legolas' room the next morning. Estel was not in his own room and the elven lord figured where the boy could be. His assumption was correct. Legolas was still asleep, his breathing even and deep. His eyes were still closed, but that would only be expected. Arwen was dozing in the large armchair, her head slightly tilted to the side. Estel was on the floor, resting on his stomach with a quill in his hand. He was doodling on a spare scrap of parchment and singing a nonsensical tune. Despite the carefree appearance, his guard was not down, and he glanced at Legolas every ten seconds to check his condition.

As Elrond watched, Estel raised himself to his knees and picked up the piece of paper he had been drawing on, waddling over to the bed on his knees. He looked at Legolas' still face for a moment, then glanced at his picture. The prince had told the boy of his centií back at his home, and Estel knew from the way the elf had spoken that he loved the creatures. His drawing depicted two centií with their trunks entwined and an elf standing near. Next to the elf was a small boy, reaching tentatively out to the great animals in front of him. Estel folded the paper into quarters and placed it gently in Legolas' fingers, closing them around the parchment.

"Please get better, Legolas," Estel whispered to his elven friend. "I want to see your centií someday, and I want to go horseback riding with you and Khílya. You need to get better. Please."

Elrond backed away from the door and continued his way to his office, his heart wrenching within him.

Estel lay back down on the floor, taking up the quill again. He remembered when Legolas had taught him how to draw a centií. He began drawing another one of the great creatures, taking special care.

"When you get better, Legolas," Estel mused, "I want you to teach me how to draw a horse." Arwen stirred at the slight sound of the child's voice, her open eyes coming into focus and fixing on the two of them. She sat up straighter in the chair.

"Oh, I fell asleep," she muttered. "I was not supposed to do that, was I?"

"Nay," Estel said in a singsong voice, still focused on his drawing. "You weren't." His sister glared at him and then her gaze turned to Legolas, who was still sleeping.

"How is he?" she asked, her voice low so as not to wake him.

"He has not died, if that is what you want to know," Estel replied, not meaning to be cheeky, just acting the age he was. "He's breathing fine. I think he's only sleeping."

"Not…anymore," a voice rasped quietly. Estel and Arwen both leaped up and moved in close. Legolas blinked in surprise at the blurry shapes above him and shied away slightly, moaning when it twinged his injuries and worsened his headache. A gentle hand found his shoulder.

"Don't try to move too much, Legolas," Arwen whispered. "You could hurt yourself." Legolas forced the world to come into focus and saw Arwen and Estel leaning over him. He turned his head to find his surroundings.

"What time is it?" he asked. He put a hand to his head and rubbed his eye with his palm.

"Just after dawn," Arwen replied.

"How do you feel?" Estel asked abruptly. Legolas gave a mirthless chuckle.

"Like dragon spit," he replied, draping an arm over his face to block out the sunshine streaming through the open balcony door. He still had a headache from the night before, and though the other two beings had not noticed, his eyes were still dilated from illness. Arwen moved his arm and placed a hand on his forehead and found it only slightly heated.

"Well, I think your fever's gone," she informed. Legolas sighed and closed his eyes.

"How long will I feel like this?" he asked. "I feel…achy, all over. I hate it." He did not feel well enough to say anything more than the facts.

"I would too," Arwen replied, pouring him a cup of water. She glanced sympathetically at the prince. Elves did not normally feel this way. She could imagine that he wished the wounds he had received killed him right now.

"Can you sit up?" she asked, turning back to him and holding out the cup. Legolas raised himself slowly to his elbows. He inched himself up and nodded slightly, reaching out for the cup of water being offered to him. He grimaced for a moment, but did not reveal any other sign that one of his wounds had protested. He took the cup carefully in his hand and raised it to his lips.

"Thank you," he muttered before taking a swig of the cool liquid. He handed the cup back to Arwen only half finished. He settled back down into a lying position and rubbed his temples.

"Do you want to eat anything?" Arwen asked. He shook his head.

"I don't feel well enough for that yet," he replied. "Thank you anyway."

"Prince Legolas," came a voice. Legolas lifted his head and gazed at Lord Elrond coming into the room, a mug of tea in his hand. "It is good to see you awake." Legolas nodded.

"I thank you and everyone else for caring for me," he said softly. Elrond smiled and set his cup on the table beside him.

"It was the least we could do," he responded. He moved in to check the bandages and the wounds. He prodded one gently, ceasing the movement when Legolas hissed in pain. He nodded, as if to himself, and raised his head.

"Elladan!" he called. It was only moments before the elder twin burst into the room, his eyes flicking around quickly. He looked immediately to Legolas, only to see the prince was awake and staring at him. He sighed and dropped his arms to his sides.

"Ada, must you do that?" he asked. "I thought something was wrong." Elrond ignored the statement.

"I need fresh bandages," he said, unwrapping the injury on Legolas' side carefully. "You know where to get them."

"Yes, Ada," Elladan grumbled, and he left the room.

"How do you feel, Legolas?" Elrond asked the younger elf.

"Not very well," he responded, raising himself slightly into a sitting position to make it easier for the elven lord to work on his wounds. "I feel very weak."

"Yes, that is only to be expected for what you went through the night before," Elrond muttered. Legolas shuddered at the memory of the beasts, their claws and teeth, their howls…

"I contacted your father," Elrond suddenly said, bringing Legolas out of his reverie of hazy memories. Legolas turned to look at him, alarmed.

"You did _what?_" he asked, his blue eyes wide. He shook his head. "Did the message leave yet?"

"Yes. Calen and a few guards left earlier with the message."

"Oh no…" Legolas covered his face with his hand.

"Is there a problem with informing your father about what happened?" Elrond asked, glancing up at the distraught elf prince. Legolas removed his hand and stared out of the window that was open next to his bed.

"I would rather him not knowing of what happened," he whispered. His eyes lowered to fix on his hands resting in his lap. "He would not understand."

"What do you mean?" Elrond asked, stopping his movements and coming to sit next to the prince on the bed. Legolas did not respond, only kept staring out of the window at the forest spreading below. Elrond turned and shooed his children away. Arwen took Estel's hand. The boy cast one last glance at Legolas, but submissively left the room with his sister. Once the door was fully closed and the lord's sharp elven hearing could no longer hear his children nearby, Elrond turned back to Legolas.

"What do you mean?" he repeated. Legolas sighed.

"I do not wish for him to see me like this," Legolas responded. "I…it's hard to explain to someone who does not know my father like I do."Elrond nodded and shifted in his position on the bed, beginning to clean Legolas' wound again.

"Try to explain in the best way you can," he whispered. "I am able to understand most things, I am sure your attempts will not be in vain." The prince nodded gratefully.

"Our relationship…is not…what one would expect," he started, fiddling with the hem of the bedsheet in much of a manner Estel would. "We…do not agree on many things, and one of those things…is honor. Honor and loyalty. Honor and loyalty is what he stresses most."

"I am not sure I see the point here," Elrond said, slightly puzzled by what the prince meant. Legolas gave a chuckle dry of mirth.

"Exactly," Legolas whispered. "What I am trying to say is…we do not have a good relationship with each other and…he will…most likely blame me for what has happened."

"How could he?" Elrond asked, disbelief clear in his tone. "Animals are unpredictable in actions and nature, you could not have known that they would attack or even come this far north. I do not see…"

"My father is one that places blame," Legolas interrupted, his eyes flicking from the window to Elrond's own. "This is more than just the wolves' attack. It was my fault we became distant, it is still my fault. Many things have happened since my mother's death, which was my fault as well. I know he blames me for it, I have seen it in his eyes. He accuses me. Do you not see why I travel so often, why I stay away from him? Every time I see him, it gets steadily worse. He seems to try and make sure I never forget the weakness that killed my mother. I was weak that night and still am in many ways. I cannot face him like this, I cannot."

"Legolas, _sûicen_," Elrond murmured, placing a hand on the prince's arm. "You take blame and guilt that does not belong to you. Your father does not blame you, I am sure of that. It was no one's fault your mother died, save for the vecz whose hand at which she was killed. You do not deserve to carry that burden of guilt." (The original title of this fic; you can see why)

"You don't understand!" Legolas burst out, tears forming in his eyes. "I was close enough to stop the dagger, I could have done something, I remember thinking that I should do something even as the weapon began to descend, but the only reason I stayed my hand was because I was afraid. I was frightened of the vecz and that fear, that weakness, kept me back, kept me away from saving my nana. I…I never…" The words trailed away as he openly began to weep. Trying to keep his tears hidden from the elven lord, he turned and buried his face into his pillow, willing for the broken sobs to cease. Elrond placed a gentle hand on Legolas' trembling shoulder, murmuring Elvish to calm the younger elf down. The prince soon quieted, but kept his face buried in his pillow, too ashamed to even look at Elrond. The elven lord sat silent by his side for a few moments when the door opened and Elladan entered, carrying bandages. He glanced at the still scene before him and handed the bandages to Elrond, who nodded in thanks.

"Is everything alright, Ada?" Elladan asked, gazing at the prince lying still on the bed in obvious concern. Elrond nodded.

"Yes, Elladan," the elven lord responded quietly, unrolling the bandages. "You may leave now." The elder twin nodded and exited the room.Elrond waited a few moments before he could no longer hear Elladan outside the door.

"He is gone," he whispered to Legolas. "You must rise for me to help your wounds." The elven prince reluctantly sat up and turned around, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. He settled his hands into his lap and bowed his head as Elrond cleaned and rebound his injury.

"I understand, Legolas," Elrond whispered soothingly. Legolas raised his head, his blue eyes large and staring openly into Elrond's.

"I know why you blame yourself, but know this: what happened the night of your mother's death was not of your doing. The only way it could ever be your fault is if you wanted your mother dead," the elven lord explained gently. Legolas began to speak, but Elrond raised a hand for silence. "I know you were near enough to stop the dagger from reaching its destination, yet you were only a child at the time. And how would you have stopped it? Your mother would have wanted you to stay away and stay safe. She would not have wanted you hurt from trying to save her."

Legolas lowered his gaze once again. He did not know how exactly to respond. Elrond used the silence and lack of the prince's open gaze to finish the job of tending to the young elf's wounds. Legolas sighed and laid down again, moving slowly to not disturb his fragile state. Elrond gathered the bandages and healing materials he had brought and opened the door.

"_Hannon le_, Lord Elrond," Legolas whispered, closing his eyes and falling into a light sleep. Elrond's keen elven hearing heard the thanks and he turned to gaze tenderly at the still form resting peacefully on the bed.

"Rest well, _ïon un edi-vientê_, son of the forest," the elven lord murmured, leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind him.

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Aww...poor guy. Anywho, reviews, please! Oh, and to the reviewer who sent me apple pie: Is it homemade? Just askin'. I'd luv it even if it wasn't. Thank you, that was a very nice change! -snarfs pie in 2 seconds flat- Byeses! I promise that next update will be quicker!


	11. The arrival of the king

A/N: Woo! Sorry; I try to update atleast every other day. It appears I was a bit late on this one. I had to go to my friend's to celebrate her birthday. We went to see the Brother's Grimm. It wasn't too good, at least that's what I thought. I was so confused by the plot and everything. Anywho, here's another update for ya!

A/N: Responses shall now be posted on the review board. Thanks to the suggestion of dear **lindahoyland**, I can talk to yas again! squee

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Disclaimer: Too tired to come up with anything witty for the disclaimer. I don't own them. Wish I did, but i don't. Pity.

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ch. 11

"Ada," Estel whispered, slipping through the office door. "Ada?" He gazed around the darkened room, searching for his father. Elrond was not by the fire, where he usually was at this hour. Estel spotted him slumped against his desk, his head pillowed on his folded arms. The five year old boy inched closer to the sleeping elf lord, not wishing to startle him. He gently prodded the elf's arm.

"Ada," he murmured as Elrond stirred, his open eyes coming into focus. The elven lord gazed fondly down at his human son.

"What is it, _ïon-nîn_?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. He stretched mildly. "Is Legolas alright?"

"Yes, Arwen, I and the twins were just with him," Estel responded, pulling himself into his father's lap. "He's feeling slightly worse, but he said it wasn't a lot to worry about."

"Hmm…" Elrond mused. The prince should not have been feeling worse, he should have been feeling better by now, with the rest and medicine he was getting. Elrond guessed it was only a minor feeling after his fever and injuries. Estel played unconsciously with a strand of Elrond's long brown hair, humming.

"What are you reading, Ada?" Estel asked, looking at the open book lying on the elven lord's desk. Elrond leaned forward slightly.

"Just going over ingredients and herbs of certain medicines," he responded lightly. Estel smiled.

"Is it boring?" he asked.

"Why would you say that?" Elrond replied, amused at the question.

"You fell asleep," the boy replied innocently, gazing up at his father with silver eyes. Elrond laughed in understanding.

"No, it is not boring," he answered. "I was only tired."

"Why?"

"Living beings get tired, Estel, that is the way things are," Elrond said gently.

"Legolas was tired when I came to see you," Estel said distractedly, playing again with his foster father's hair. "He said so."

"I see."

"Is his ada coming her to see him?"

"I'm not sure, Estel. King Thranduil has to respond to my message for me to know that," Elrond said.

"When will that be?" Estel asked.

"I'm not sure of that either."

Elrond replied to the endless stream of questions bursting forth from his foster son with an amazing amount of patience, leafing through the book at the same time. They kept their pleasant talk going until Arwen came hurriedly into the room, her long dark hair mussed.

"Ada," she called breathlessly. "It is Legolas. His fever is back and he is not doing well." Elrond lifted Estel from his lap and rose swiftly to his feet, following his daughter down the hall and into Legolas' room, where the prince was bent over a basin. He was emptying his stomach of the small portions of food they had forced him to eat earlier in the day to keep his strength up. Elladan and Elrohir sat by his side, giving silent support to the miserable elf.

Elrond crossed the room in quick strides and sat on the edge of the bed as Legolas lay back down, moaning in distress. Elrond felt his brow and was surprised at how quickly his temperature had risen. He wet a cloth and placed it on Legolas' forehead, trying to figure out why the fever had so suddenly and unexpectedly returned. Maybe the medicinal tea had kept the illness at bay for a time until it wore off.

"Elladan, make another batch of the tea," Elrond instructed. "Make it stronger, though. And do it quickly." The elder twin nodded soberly and left the room. Legolas coughed feebly and turned his head atop his pillow, trying to find comfort in his illness.

"_Sûicen_, Legolas," Elrond whispered. "You will pull through." Legolas did not respond. A tense silence fell over the group until it was broken by Legolas' cough.

"Has…my father responded…yet?" he asked. Elrond shook his head and replaced the cool cloth on the younger elf's brow.

"Not yet, Legolas," he whispered. The prince nodded and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, shivering visibly. Estel inched to the side of the bed and placed a small hand on Legolas' trembling shoulder. The prince smiled weakly at the young boy and lifted his hand, the picture clutched in his fingers.

"I…liked your…drawing, Estel," he whispered between tattered breaths. "Thank you." The boy grinned back and twirled a pale golden lock of Legolas' hair between his fingers.

"I will get to see your centií someday, right?" he asked quietly. Legolas smiled and closed his eyes.

"Yes," he murmured. "You will see them. I promise you." Estel lay his head down on Legolas' chest, hearing the strong elven heartbeat and feeling the shallow rise and fall of the prince's chest. Elrond remained silent, watching the two unlikely friends intently. He never thought that they would become so close.

"Here, Ada," Elladan called, coming through the door and handing the mug of tea to his father. Elrond curled his fingers around the cup and prodded Legolas gently. The prince's eyes opened, fixing Elrond with a dilated and bleary gaze.

"Sit up and drink this, Legolas," Elrond whispered. "It will help you." Legolas coughed and inched upright on his elbows, moving slowly. He took the mug in his hands, staring at the liquid within.

"What's in it?" he asked, his voice sluggish and groggy. Elrond pushed his arm, urging him to drink. As the prince raised the cup to his lips, Elrond replied,

"Something that will bring the fever down and help you sleep." Legolas nodded and took a drought of the medicine, wrinkling his nose in distaste. The tea blunted the strong, acrid taste of the herbs, yet it still did not dumb it down completely. Legolas handed the near empty mug back to Elrond, not being able to force himself to drink any more. He slowly lay back down on his side and closed his eyes, the drug in the medicine, as well as the feeling of warm tea in his stomach, pulling him into sleep.

"Will the extra medicine get rid of the sickness?" Estel asked. Elrond sighed and stood.

"I hope so," he replied softly, getting another blanket and spreading it over the still form of the prince. "Now, everyone out so he may get some rest. Go on, out." The twins left without a fight, but Arwen and Estel protested. Elrond put a hand on each of their shoulders and led them for the door.

"No one likes to be hovered over," he said gently, pushing them through the door. "We all should go to give him rest." Arwen and Estel pouted, but slowly walked away from Legolas' door. Elrond waited until they were out of sight before turning in the opposite direction and striding away.

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"Now add a tail," Legolas instructed. Estel, resting on the floor on his belly, made a long swirl with his quill. As he had asked two days before, Legolas was showing him how to draw a horse. Legolas sat cross-legged on his bed, a light bedsheet across his knees. A board lay in front of him with the pieces of a game scattered in random places. Elrohir sat across from him, scrutinizing the playing field to make his next move. Elladan was perched on the edge of the bed, watching the progress of the game, a plate of small pastries in his hand, from which he and his twin brother were eating. Arwen was seated in the large armchair, silently reading a book. A storm raged outside the closed windows, the comforting silence of the room sometimes broken by deep rumbles of thunder.

"Like that?" Estel asked, looking up at the elven prince. Legolas glanced at his sketch before nodding his head.

"Exactly," he replied, turning his head to quickly catch the move Elrohir was making on the board. He smiled mischievously. The younger twin noticed the impish grin and he froze with his fingers still resting lightly on the piece. Legolas waved his hand, indicating that Elrohir should continue with his move. He did, but glared suspiciously at his opponent as he set the piece down. Instantly Legolas reached forward and moved one of his own into the spot, snatching up Elrohir's with a triumphant chuckle. Elrohir threw his hands into the air, smiling.

"I knew I did something wrong when I saw that look on your face!" he exclaimed. "Well, hear this, princeling, I will have my revenge. Fear the night." Legolas smirked incredulously and swept his arm over the board.

"Your turn, 'Ro," he said in feigned innocence. The younger twin grunted and turned his gaze to the board. Elladan smiled as he popped another pastry into his mouth. He himself had never been able to beat his twin brother in this game, and to see someone finally defeat the 'master' of the game was utterly satisfying. Even Arwen glanced up from her story to see Elrohir take one of Legolas' pieces with a wide grin. The prince did not respond, simply flicked his gaze over the board, and, with barely contained mirth, he lifted one of his pieces and moved it to the other side, taking two of Elrohir's pieces. The younger twin's mouth fell open as he realized the mistake he had made when he took one of Legolas' pieces. His astonishment quickly turned to playful frustration.

"Clever move," he muttered, "royal boy." Legolas laughed, rocking back against his pillow. He did not take the joking barb personally and pointed to the game.

"Your move," he choked out between irritating snickers. Elrohir smiled and returned his attention to the board. While he waited, Legolas gazed out of the nearby window, watching the rain. He jumped slightly when a pastry lightly struck his temple, bouncing off and landing on Estel's parchment. The boy glanced up in confusion before popping the treat into his mouth, while Legolas gazed at Elladan accusingly. The elder twin instantly pointed to Elrohir, who was making an effort not to smile and had his eyes fixed intently on the ceiling. Legolas grinned and reached behind him for his pillow.

"Ai!"

Elrohir collapsed off the bed after the pillow collided with his head, swung by the elven prince. Elladan stood and stepped out of the way, watching in amusement as Elrohir sat up, his long brown hair disheveled, glaring at Legolas. The prince only smiled, his eyebrows raised in feigned innocence. The only thing that gave him away was the pillow still clutched tightly in one hand. Elrohir soon grinned.

"Clever move," he said, his voice dripping with mischief. He leaped up, snatched the other pillow from behind the prince and raising it above his head. Legolas rolled from the bed before the object could make contact with him. The pillow thumped harmlessly onto the mattress where the prince had just lain. The game board fell from the bed and the pieces scattered as the elven prince stood. Legolas held his hands out in front of him, backing away, the bedsheet trailing after him before it released his ankle.

"Peace, friend," he laughed. "I don't want to have to hurt you." Elrohir giggled endlessly.

"Hurt _me_? I don't think I am the one going to be hurt," he stepped over the bed, a wide grin on his face and the pillow held out in front of him. Estel stood up and moved out of the way, giggling. Legolas lunged forward and grabbed the boy by the shoulders, moving him in front of himself like a shield. He ducked behind the young one.

"I have a hostage," he called from behind Estel. "Don't try anything foolish or the boy will pay for it." Elladan laughed.

"Go ahead," he replied. "We'll finally be free of him."

"Hey!" Estel exclaimed. Elrohir grabbed Estel and pulled him out of the way before striking the elf behind the boy with the pillow. Legolas stumbled and laughed as downy feathers floated on the air.

"You broke it!" he choked out between his laughs. "Lord Elrond's going to make you pick up every little feather off the floor and put them back in the case."

"I don't doubt that," Elladan said from the other side of the room. "Have fun, brother." Elrohir glared at his twin, lifting a feather from his hair and blowing it off his palm. He was unprepared for the soft thump of a pillow against his face, and he fell back, shouting. Legolas laughed triumphantly, waving the pillow in his hand. He stumbled as Arwen leaped forward and struck him with her own pillow. Soon everyone in the room was involved in the fray and it looked like an indoor blizzard with the amount of feathers floating on the air. Laughter rang from the depths of the whiteness, edging out of the door and reaching the ears of the elven lord passing by.

Elrond opened the door, poking his head through. He blinked in surprise at the sight that met his eyes. He saw the occupants of the room collapse onto the floor, sending up a wave of feathers and laughing uncontrollably.

"Ada will have us all picking up feathers now," Elladan choked out between his endless stream of giggles.

"He won't make me," Legolas said. "I'm still _healing_." Arwen laughed and gave the prince a light shove, sending him toppling.

"You seemed healthy enough when you whacked me on the side of the head hard enough to fell a centií," she said. Legolas laughed.

"That was a good shot, especially when you shrieked like an offended sparrow," he replied, garnering the laughs of the other beings sitting on the floor with him.

"I did not!" Arwen said, crossing her arms indignantly, "shriek like an offended sparrow."

"You're right, it sounded more like an offended finch," Elrohir said. Everyone laughed except for the elf maiden in their midst, but even she could not keep a smile from her face. She glared at the younger twin and smirked at him.

"Well, at least my reflexes aren't as slow as yours, Elrohir," she said. "You saw me coming at you from across the room and didn't do anything."

"That's because he was frozen in horror when he saw your hideous face twisted into a feral snarl," Elladan laughed.

"Elladan! How could you say such a thing?" Elrohir said, his eyes widening in mock surprise. "The truth was I was frozen in horror when I saw her hideous face twisted into a feral snarl and heard her screeching voice rise in an unknown battle cry, as well as the fact that I did see her coming, I just did not move because I was kind enough to let her think she was useful in the battle! Why are you telling lies, brother?"

"Ha ha, you are all very funny," Arwen said, rolling her eyes. "Like I need to feel useful batting your stinking carcass around with a pillow." Comfortable, light laughter fell between them. Elrond chose the moment to speak.

"Would one of you be kind enough to tell me what happened here?" he asked softly. The young ones on the floor lifted their heads in surprise, then all shook their heads, glancing at one another as if they had no idea how a sea of feathers came to rest on the carpet beneath them. Elrond smiled.

"Really? Well, if you can't tell me, then I guess you will have to pick up every feather. By hand. Now, tell me, who is responsible for this mess?" Legolas pointed to Elrohir, who pointed to Arwen, who in turn gestured at Elladan, who indicated Estel, who pointed back at Legolas. Elrond laughed suddenly and shook his head. He edged out of the door and closed it behind him, his heart lightening at the sound of the young ones' laughter from within the feather-filled room.

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Lord Elrond sighed as he stepped out into the entrance hall to greet the guest that had just arrived. King Thranduil stood amidst his guards, his traveling tunic and hair dripping from the rain they had just escaped. He turned his piercing gaze to the elven lord that entered the room and strode quickly across the polished marble floor, trailing water behind him.

"Where is he?" he asked, his voice low and lethal with barely contained rage. "Where is my son?" Elrond nodded, seeming tired.

"Follow me please," he said coolly, turning and striding down the hall after he ordered a few servants to care for the king's sopping guards. King Thranduil walked swiftly after the elven lord. Elrond reached a closed door. Thranduil could clearly hear laughter within the room. Lord Elrond knocked lightly on the door before opening it and allowing Thranduil to pass.

Legolas was sitting on the bed cross-legged, the playing board once again in front of him. Elrohir had challenged the prince to a rematch earlier. They gradually had let the rules slip and were now inventing a new way to play the game. Arwen, Elladan and Estel were crowded around, adding their own rules to the ones the two contestants were creating. They were all highly enjoying themselves when they heard a knock on the door and Elrond opened it, waving his arm to an unseen person standing just outside the doorway.

The light laughter stilled when King Thranduil appeared soaking wet, raising his cool pale gray gaze to each person in the room, coming to rest on his son. His eyes lingered.

"A-_Adar_?" Legolas stammered in surprise, looking his father up and down and analyzing Thranduil's condition. "Father?" Behind the king's back, Elrond motioned for his own children to exit the room. The prince's friends quickly melted away from the bed and left through the door single file, their gazes lowered submissively as they passed the king. Only Estel had the courage to steal a glance at the stoic face of Thranduil, realizing how alike Legolas looked his father, except the sharp features were softened in his expression and his gaze was more benign. The boy hurried quickly by and let the door shut behind him.

"Ada, when did you get here?" Legolas asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Thranduil crossed the room and eased his son back down, his slender hands on Legolas' shoulders. The prince complied.

"Just twenty minutes ago," the king replied uncaringly. "How are you, my son?"

"Better," Legolas said evasively. "What did Lord Elrond say in his message?"

"Only that you had been wounded from a mishap in the forest and that you were under special care," the king replied. "He said nothing more. What really happened?"

"Wolves attacked me and my mount," Legolas said softly, lowering his gaze.

"Wolves?" Thranduil repeated, gazing hard at his only offspring. "Did they badly wound you?"

_Yes. So much that it left me reeling in a fever and babbling my deepest secrets in delirium. _

"No, not too bad. I am healed anyway," Legolas said. "My wounds no longer grieve me." Thranduil nodded his head.

"Lord Elrond was oddly vague in his message," the king revealed. "He did not tell me your state or condition. It is good to know you are well."

"Thank you, Adar," Legolas mumbled, bowing his head in respect. Thranduil nodded and opened the door. He was halted by a questioning voice.

"Ada?" Legolas asked, lifting his gaze. Thranduil looked back at his son for a moment. Legolas looked down again, seemingly shy now that he had his father's attention.

"I…I'm sorry," he murmured quietly. Thranduil cocked his head at the sudden apology, wondering what his son must have been thinking to give it. The king only nodded in slight confusion and left the room, not answering. Legolas stood, beginning to pace restlessly. He stepped out onto the balcony now that the rain had subsided and leaned against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing at the gray sky.

King Thranduil walked swiftly down the hall and knocked on Elrond's door. He had been here before; he knew exactly where the lord's office was.

"Enter."

Thranduil opened the door and stormed in. Elrond was sitting in the large armchair, Estel on his lap. He looked up, not surprised at the anger in the elven king's gaze. The Mirkwood king was known for his infamous, quick-flaring temper.

"King Thranduil," he said, motioning to the chair. "Come, sit down." Thranduil shook his head curtly and paced to the other side of the room before turning back to Elrond.

"_Wolves_?" he asked, the word ripping abruptly from him. "I leave my son, the only heir of Mirkwood, in your care, and you let him get attacked by _wolves_?" Elrond regarded the king coolly, not affected by the rage in Thranduil's tone.

"Animals are unpredictable, we had no idea that this would happen," he replied, lifting Estel from his lap and placing the boy in the chair. "As soon as we realized what had happened we did everything we could to bring the young prince back to health."

"This should not have happened in the first place!" Thranduil whirled on the elven lord. "Why did you not tell me in your message? Tell me, did you even know he had left the building when he was attacked?" Elrond did not respond. The answer was obvious in his gaze. No, he had not known. Thranduil nodded, as if confirming the fact, and turned away.

"Did you even send anyone out to find him when you _did_ realize he was gone?" Thranduil asked. Elrond again remained silent. The king shook his head. If one could be killed by furious looks, Elrond would be dead.

"What were you doing that was so important that you could not send someone to find my son while he was missing?" the king asked another question. Elrond gestured to Estel, who was still sitting in the large chair, peering warily over the arm.

"I was caring for my youngest son," Elrond replied honestly. "He had been beaten by some other young ones and needed my help."

"A human?" Thranduil hissed, glancing over the elven lord's shoulder at the young boy. "You neglected your responsibility of watching my son because of a rotten _human_?" Elrond stepped forward, threatening the king with both his proximity and gaze.

"Do _not_," he whispered lethally, "take this out on Estel. He has done nothing to you. It was my mistake and mine only. I did not know Legolas was in danger." Thranduil's eyes flashed dangerously.

"And do _not_," he responded in the same low tone, "think this is forgotten, Elrond. I placed my son in your care. It did not matter whether or not you knew he was in danger. You were merely supposed to watch him as closely as you would one of your own. I'm afraid my trust in you has been disrupted." Thranduil stalked from the room and closed the door. Estel inched forward in the chair and plucked at Elrond's robes.

"Ada?" he asked in a small voice. "Why is he so upset?"

"You need not worry about that, Estel," the elven lord replied somewhat distractedly, stooping over and lifting his youngest son in his arms. He gazed at the closed door. "It does not concern you."

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Yikes! What a grouch! lol. Reviews most welcome!


	12. Uh oh spagettio! Trouble!

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I've been working on some other stories, about three, to be exact, and I didn't have any time for it. But I had enough time to post this! I'm afraid I won't be able to do responses, because my mother gave me some chores to do today before she came home and she's coming in about one hour. I really appreciate them, though! I'm up to 95! One more and I'm at 100: squee :

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Disclaimer: Not mine! You can search me! I don't have any cards or anything that says I own 'em!

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ch. 12

"Adar, you do not understand—" Legolas began, only to be cut off by his father, who turned his back to him and paced away, to the railing of the balcony.

"I fully understand, Legolas," he retorted hotly. "I understand more than you do, obviously." Legolas shook his head. He had inherited his father's stubbornness, as well as his trait for becoming quick to anger. When the two were against each other in an argument they reached a stalemate that could last for hours until one backed down.

"Ada, you do not know what being here has done for me," Legolas said indignantly.

"It has gotten you attacked by wolves, that is what it has done!" Thranduil replied, his voice risen to near shouting.

"That was no one's fault save my own," Legolas said, his features hardening. He looked remarkably like his father when he became angry, and his relationship to Thranduil was revealed in a near feral frown. "I heard the wolves but did not heed their warning."

"Lord Elrond should have been watching you when you left," Thranduil said. "It was his fault he did not stop you."

"Why would he!" Legolas said, raising his hands palm up as he spoke. "Do not place the blame on Lord Elrond, Adar, if it were not for he I would not have healed."

"He wouldn't have had to heal you if you had not have left, and he could have prevented that!" the king raged. Legolas' blue eyes glinted. Since when was the king this unreasonable?

"Either way, it is past and we should forget it," the prince said, lowering his voice. He did not want others to hear their argument. Thranduil grumbled to himself, and he realized that Legolas was speaking sensibly, yet his stubborn anger could not so easily be placed aside.

"I will not just forget what happened, Legolas!" Thranduil said. "Elrond had responsibility over you."

"And he filled the role in well when I was injured," Legolas retorted, quickly losing his patience on the matter. "He did not leave my side unless he was sure I was well. But this is not what we were talking about, Ada."

"You are right, it is not, so I will repeat what I said almost ten minutes ago. You are returning to Mirkwood with me whether you want to or whether I have to strap you down to your mount."

"Ada, I cannot do that," Legolas said. "I have been healing well in this place. Not just physically, Adar. Elrond's children are now my friends. They have helped me in many ways and their healing is not yet finished." Thranduil didn't know what to make of this mysterious comment, so he chose to ignore it.

"Legolas, you are my son, the prince of Mirkwood," Thranduil said. "You have been gone too long already and the Vénos is fast approaching. You are needed for preparations and for the celebration." Legolas sighed, suddenly remembering the elven holiday. It was considered one of the highest celebrations in Mirkwood, _Vénos_ being the Elvish term for 'continued life.' The king and those of his royal house were always required to be present for the celebrations. Legolas clicked his tongue in agitation.

"That is true Ada, yet might I remind you that the Vénos is not for another week, and I am not necessarily needed for the preparations," the prince said. "I would like to stay here as long as I can before going back to Mirkwood." Thranduil growled in frustration.

"I do not want you staying here, Legolas," he said. Legolas narrowed his eyes, the light blue flashing and resembling daggers in both color and in his glare.

"And why should I comply?" he asked.

"Because I said so," Thranduil replied shortly, obviously thinking the coversation ended at his word. Legolas curled his fists, his ire rising inside of his chest. Of course his father was above him, being king made hardly anyone above you, but Legolas was not used to being so curtly told what to do and being expected to listen. He lifted his chin stubbornly.

"I will return to Mirkwood only after two days have passed," he said in a low voice that held a lethal tone in each syllable. Thranduil felt rage at his son's refusal to listen to his demands.

"Have you heard nothing of what I just said, Legolas?" he asked, his own voice equally menacing. "I said we would be leaving tomorrow at dawn."

"I heard you, Ada," Legolas replied. "But I am leaving in two days. You may leave tomorrow if you wish." He knew he was being disrespectful, but his rage was temporarily over his conscious thought of holding the respecting tone in his voice and words.

"Legolas, I do not want to have to take you out of this place by force," Thranduil hissed angrily. "That will create attention I wish to avoid."

"I would wish to avoid it too, Ada," Legolas said coolly. "That is why I expect you to leave me in peace and allow me to return when I would like to."

"Legolas, I am your father and your king. I expect you to heed my words and listen to them. If I need to have the guards drag you out of here by your pointed ears, then I swear by my own star I will have it done!"

"Then I guess the guards will have to capture me first!" Legolas retorted, the volume of his voice rising along with his father's. "The only way they will disgrace me in such a way is if they either knock me unconscious or kill me, if you so badly want me out of this place!" This had gone beyond a mere argument. It was now a battle of wills, and both were equally strong and matched. Before the tenseness of the situation could grow, Legolas shouldered his way past the elven king and left the room. Thranduil remained on the balcony, staring at the door through which his son had just gone through as if expecting Legolas to return. When the prince did not, he sighed and turned away. He would wait until the both of them were done fuming to consult his son.

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Legolas slung his quiver over his shoulder, as well as his bow. He quickly sheathed his knives and strode swiftly from the entrance hall, stepping out into the light of day. He did not bother going to retrieve Khílya. He simply walked into the forest, knowing that the trees would drag his ire down and help him calm. The ground was still wet and muddy from yesterday's rain and the elf's boots sank partway into the earth as he walked. Not that he noticed. He was too busy still being angry at the recent argument with his father to really care.

Legolas had never commanded the prince that way before. He of course had ordered Legolas to do things against his will in the past, yet not so harshly. Legolas could not leave Rivendell or Elrond's offspring so early. His heart was not fully mended, and ripping Legolas away from the healing abilities they were applying would only send him back to the way he had been before he had come here: stoic, emotionless, empty of merriment or mirth. The last thing Legolas wanted was for his heart to enter that area of pain again.

The prince knew his father was using the upcoming celebrations of Vénos as an excuse to force Legolas to return home with him. The elf prince was two thousand seven hundred and sixty three years old. He was not completely oblivious to his father's schemes. He knew, though, that part of the king's reason was correct. The Vénos was important to the elves of Mirkwood and Legolas had to be present for the celebrations, but he did not necessarily have to leave immediately in order to arrive on time. Thranduil was upset at Elrond's 'lack' of responsibility for caring for the prince and wanted to take Legolas back only for that reason.

Legolas did not agree with that, either. Estel had been hurt both inside and out and needed his family's attention to help. Legolas did not blame Elrond for not sending someone after the prince immediately in Estel's time of need. It was what was expected and perfectly understandable to Legolas. He would not want Estel neglected simply because he had gone missing, especially after what those horrid boys had said to him.

A small cry of pain came from deep inside the woods, reaching Legolas' keen pointed ears. He stopped walking and stood completely still, his head cocked as he listened. There came another desperate shout, and this time Legolas recognized the voice.

"Estel?"

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Estel stepped through the trees cautiously. His mind was slightly troubled. He had heard Legolas and Thranduil arguing in the prince's room, both their voices raised. He could not hear what they had been saying, his ears were not sharp enough for that, but he could tell that both were upset about something. Estel did not like it when others argued; it created a tension that he hated when it was in the air.

Estel lifted a stick and slashed at the grass as he walked. The sunshine streamed through the branches overhead and lit the raindrops still settled on the ground and leaves, making them shine like liquid diamonds. Estel loved nature, he found it intriguing and mystifying at the same time, and he felt at home when he was among it. He entered a clearing and heard a lone bird whistling in a nearby tree, and he stopped to listen. He looked up and saw a yellow bird settled on a nearby branch, its sleek black head raised as it sang. Estel did not know what kind of bird it was, but he smiled as he listened to its trilling song. Suddenly he heard a voice that did not belong to the bird or any part of the forest, one that sent shivers of dread up his spine as he turned to face it.

"Well well, if it isn't elf boy. What's the matter? Did the elves finally kick you out of their city?"

"Leave me alone," Estel muttered, lowering his head. The five large boys entering the clearing laughed. Their leader, Amins, shook his head at Estel's boldness.

"That isn't how you should speak to your superiors, prissy little elf boy," he said. "I thought we taught you that last time. What are you doing out here? Did you finally get rejected by the elves?"

"No," Estel said, lifting his head defiantly. "In fact, they all accept me better now that they heard about you. My sister said she would kill you if she got the chance."

"Ooh, your sister?" Amins laughed, raising his hands in mock fear. "A prissy little elf girl is going to kill me? We'd better leave him alone, guys." They all laughed. Amins leaned forward and shoved Estel back, causing the boy to fall. He stood over Estel and smirked down at him.

"Your time with the elves has only made you weak," the older boy said. "The reason they keep you is only because they pity you. So much that they think of you as a pet, I'll bet. One that scuttles at their feet and does whatever they say. You're pathetic thinking that they really accept you for who you are. I bet—" Amins' words were cut off as Estel swung his legs around, catching the older boy's ankles and sending him crashing to the ground. Amins landed heavily on his side, shocked at how quickly he had been brought down by one so small.

"Get him!" the elder boy shouted angrily, and Estel realized too late his mistake. He had let his rage get ahead of his common sense. The five year old scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but strong hands grasped his arms, jerking him back. One of the boys struck him in the stomach, knocking the air free from Estel's lungs and causing him to fold over. Another hit his cheek. They were all soon beating him, eliciting small cries of pain from him. They threw him onto the ground and he lay motionless.

"You little nift!" Amins raged when they were through beating him. He kicked Estel's ribs sharply. Estel raised his head and spat at the older boy, getting another blow inflicted on him as a result. He cried out louder this time. Amins hauled him to his feet, his hand gripping the thin arm, and glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"The next time you try—"

"Release him," a lethal voice said from behind Estel, and the small boy could have cried with relief.

"Legolas," he gasped. Amins lifted his head and stared at the elf standing at the edge of the trees, his bow nocked and aimed straight at Amins' heart. The elder boy grinned and slightly shook the smaller one in his grasp.

"What's this?" he asked. "Your elf bodyguard?" Legolas' eyes narrowed dangerously and he tightened the bowstring.

"Do _not_ taunt me, young one," he hissed. "Release him." Amins smirked. He was much too bold for his own good and never could see when he was in danger or not.

"Or what? You'll run me through with that stick you're holding? Like that thing could really do anything—"

He jumped and gasped slightly as the arrow was released. Yet instead of plunging into his heart, where it had been originally aimed, it landed at the boy's feet, sinking nearly to the feathered fletchings in the soft ground.

"You'd be surprised," Legolas said menacingly, another arrow already notched on the string. "Now release the boy or the arrow I am holding will pierce your heart." Amins scowled at the elf prince yet complied, eyeing the arrow warily as he threw Estel to the ground. The small boy scrambled to his feet and ducked behind the elf, gazing around the prince's lithe form at the boys that slowly backed away. Legolas lowered his bow and removed the arrow, sticking the bolt back in his quiver and slinging the bow over his shoulder. He knelt down next to Estel, his back to Amins and his companions. As the elf turned away, Amins threw himself at the prince.

"Legolas!" Estel warned, but his friend had heard the boy coming and swiveled on his heels, drawing his knives and grabbing Amins' shoulder at the same time. He placed the cool blade against the boy's throat, beneath the chin. Eyes the color of the knife in his hand glinted fiercely.

"Attacking one whose back is turned is cowardice," he hissed between his teeth. Amins swallowed tightly, his eyes on the knife threatening his life. Estel lowered the weapon. Amins sighed in relief, but it soon turned to a faint cry of pain as Legolas grabbed his wrist and dragged the blade swiftly across the boy's palm. Blood welled from the shallow wound and Amins jerked his hand back, his eyes widened in shock from the sudden and unexpected action. Legolas wiped his knife on the grass and met Amins' gaze coolly with his own.

"Let that be a warning to you," the prince said. "Next time you beat this young boy the mark I will make will be across your throat, not your hand. Now go home and get that wound bound before it becomes infected." Amins nodded dumbly and scrambled back, his hand still clutched to his chest. The boys ran quickly away into the woods. Once he was sure they were gone, Legolas turned back to Estel.

"Did they hurt you badly?" Legolas asked, hooking a finger under the boy's chin and tilting his head to the side to inspect the bruise on his cheek. Estel shook his head his head and smiled.

"Thank you, Legolas," he said excitedly, "He was really scared of you, wasn't he? I'll bet he won't hurt me anymore!"

"That was the point, young one," Legolas smiled gently. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"Thanks to you," Estel replied. He threw his arms around Legolas' neck. The prince wrapped his own around Estel's waist, returning the warm embrace. The elf soon pulled the boy away and sat him down on his knee, giving a thorough inspection to make sure Estel was truly as sound as he claimed. Estel sat patiently as Legolas examined him, playing with a lock of the prince's golden hair absently.

"Legolas?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"Are you and your ada mad at each other?" the boy queried softly, looking at the elven prince's face to see what reaction his question would garner. Legolas ceased his movements and inspection and met Estel's gaze.

"Why would you say that?" he whispered, staring steadily into the silver eyes that held his own. Estel was the first to look away. He fiddled with the string on Legolas' tunic.

"Because I heard you yelling at each other," he replied quietly, somewhat reluctant to admit he had overheard them. Legolas sighed and shifted his position, looking at the sodden ground. He had not realized that the argument could have been heard. If Estel had overheard, who else could have?

"He wanted me to return home tomorrow," Legolas whispered quietly, his eyes still fixed on a particularly interesting blade of grass. "He did not want me staying here." Estel's eyes widened and his fist clenched in the folds of the prince's tunic.

"But you cannot leave!" he said fiercely. "You still need to race Elladan, remember?" Legolas chuckled, recalling the bet he had made with the elder twin only a day ago. He shook his head slowly.

"My father is stern," he said. "I have held off his will for now, but he will eventually win either way. I might have to leave tomorrow whether I wish to or not." Estel shook his head, inching closer to the elf that had become his friend. Tears misted in his large eyes as he considered the idea of having to say goodbye to the prince.

"But I do not want you to leave, Legolas," he whispered. "You cannot leave." Legolas smiled faintly and returned his gaze to the boy's. He felt his throat constrict when he saw the tears glistening in their silver depths.

"I don't want to leave either, Estel," he said slowly, fighting to keep the emotion swirling inside of his chest out of his voice to remain positive for the distraught boy. It did not help, for his small friend began to weep openly, shaking his head. A tear slid from Legolas' light blue eye, trailing unnoticed down his cheek. He reached up and gently brushed the tears from Estel's cheek and forced a small smile.

"Estel, even though I may leave, it will only be better the next time we meet," he whispered. "There is no such thing as goodbye for two friends bound as one, for they will always be together in their hearts." Estel wrapped his arms around the elf's neck and buried his face into Legolas' shoulder, his own shaking with each small sob. The prince held him in a comforting embrace, realizing how attached he had become to the small boy. He had not expected meeting Estel when he came to Rivendell; he had not even expected having the hurts of his heart mended.

"But…but Legolas…" Estel whimpered, raising his head to meet the elf's gaze. He could not finish his sentence, for he did not know what to finish it with. Legolas brushed the tears from his friend's face gently. He cupped Estel's cheek in his slender hand, forcing the boy to meet his gaze.

"We cannot delay our separation," the prince whispered, "but we can at least enjoy our time together until the moment comes when I must leave. Come, young one, what do you want to do with me today?" Estel sniffled and looked at the trees around them, pondering the question.

"I want to explore the woods with you," he said, looking back at his elven companion. Legolas smiled and lifted the young boy off his knee, straightening gracefully to his full height. Estel slid his hand into Legolas' long fingers, as he had done on their first walk, and led him north. The two friends created their own path through the forest.

---------------

"This one, Legolas, this one!" Estel cried, jumping up and down excitedly and pointing at the gigantic pine in front of him. The prince made his way to the top of the slope and gazed up at the tall tree, shading his eyes with one hand.

"This one?" he asked. "Are you sure? It will take us years to get to the top!"

"As long as we get there!" Estel laughed, prancing to the trunk and looking at the lowest branch almost three feet above his head. He glanced back at Legolas, his gaze asking for assistance. The elf laughed and stepped under the shade of the tree's branches.

"Coming, coming," he said merrily, removing his weapons and lifting the boy onto his back. Estel wrapped his arms tightly around Legolas' neck as his legs clung around the prince's waist, much like an infant monkey would cling to its mother.

"Ready?" Legolas asked, poising to jump into the tree.

"Ready!" Estel replied, tightening his hold. The elf leaped nimbly into the air, grabbing the thick branch in his hands and swinging for a moment before hoisting himself up. He paused for a second on the lowest branch, pressing his palms against the trunk. Estel waited patiently as the elven prince closed his eyes. They had gone through this almost a dozen times throughout the day, for they had climbed many trees. In between tree climbing they simply poked through the woods, finding new things and meeting new creatures. Estel, accompanied by his elven friend, had even spent some time with a doe and her newborn fawn, watching the baby deer as it stood on unsteady legs, its mother prodding it gently to help. The creatures had been at ease around their viewers, for Legolas had assured the doe in Elvish that she and her offspring would come to no harm around the two friends. Estel was even able to play with the infant deer placidly as its mother watched carefully and spent some time with the elf prince.

Estel's thoughts were interrupted as Legolas jumped into the next branch.

"It says we can climb?" the boy asked. The elf lifted them onto the branch he had been hanging onto and nodded.

"It welcomes us gladly."

"Good."

Estel fell silent as Legolas bounded onto the next limb effortlessly, as if the boy upon his back weighed nothing at all. Even after all the other times they had gone through this, the boy was still amazed at how easily the prince maneuvered through the trees. He glanced at the ground, which was steadily dropping lower and lower. He looked back up at the many branches crisscrossing above their heads.

When the two reached the last sturdy limb closest to the top, Legolas crouched down and let the boy carefully slide from his back. Estel sat down on a branch next to Legolas', his back to the trunk. The elf sat down as well, gazing out at the magnificent view of the forest. This tree was perched at the top of a tall slope and the woods were spread out beneath it. Estel swung his legs and pointed out across the forest.

"Look! There's my house," he said. Sure enough, the tip of a white building was just visible above the vast green sea of trees. Legolas smiled and nodded.

"I bet we'd even be able to see _my_ house from up here," he said jokingly. Estel grinned and a comfortable silence fell between the two of them. They both knew that there need not be words to enjoy each other's company. They sat still in the branches of the large pine for nearly an hour, watching as the sky began to darken and the stars appear. They were even joined by a small family of squirrels who skittered down the trunk. An infant squirrel fell into Estel's lap and its family chattered for it to return to them. Five of the small creatures scattered over the boy and the elf, inspecting the new beings that had come to their tree so suddenly before scampering off again. Soon Legolas sat up and allowed Estel to climb onto his back again, and they began to descend from the tree.

Just as Legolas hit the ground in a crouch, a powerful sense of evil hit his awareness. He let Estel get off his back, but cautioned the boy to be silent and stay in the shadow of the tree. Estel nodded and pressed his back against the trunk of the tree as Legolas crept forward, his keen elven senses alert and probing the darkness for the threat he knew was there. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow silently. He stepped into the neighboring trees, leaving Estel beneath the large pine they had climbed. His boots barely made any impression on the soft carpet of pines nor any noise as he searched the shadows. Just as he took another step, the evil grew and an overwhelming stench hit his nose. He struggled not to cough and covered his nose and mouth with his hand, his eyes watering as the smell brought back evil memories of the darkened night, the hoard of immoral, hateful creatures and the one that raised the dagger…

Legolas spun around, going to warn Estel of the danger and take the boy out of harm's way, but a sound filtered through the darkened air and froze his heart.

"Legolas! Help!"

"Silence, maggot!" There came the sound of an armored hand grating against skin, and a pained cry. Legolas raced back through the woods to see a group of orcs surrounding Estel, arguing on what to do with him.

"I say we eat him!"

"He's a good specimen! I say we keep him as a slave. Look at him! He's still young; he can serve us for years!"

"But I'm hungry!"

"We'll talk to Raznul about that."

"Yes, Raznul will know what to do!"

"Slap him in chains!"

The orcs lifted Estel by his arms and seized his wrists, forcefully attaching heavy shackles to his thin limbs. They weighed him down when the evil creatures released the boy, nearly bringing him to his knees, which made his captors laugh cruelly and shove him to the ground. The young one landed hard on his chin, clicking his teeth together, through which a faint cry escaped. Legolas felt his rage burning higher and quickly pulled back the string of his bow, aiming at one of the orcs.

The dark creatures heard the sound of a sharp twang, but did not realize what it was before one of them fell dead with a gurgle, an arrow protruding from the back of its throat and piercing clean through to the other side. The orcs roared with rage, drawing their blades and raising them threateningly, gazing warily into the shadows. Another fell at the sound of the elven bow, a bolt plunged into its chest.

The orcs were starting to fear the shadows, wondering where the arrows were coming from and by whose hand. They shrieked as Legolas stepped out to meet them, raising his bow and aiming at the brow of one of the monsters. That one fell, its last view of the deadly point of an arrowhead. The elf began releasing arrows in rapid succession, many of the army falling dead. The hoard of orcs bounded forward, raising their weapons and screeching in the dark language. Legolas' firing faltered as the cursed dialect grated harshly upon his sensitive ears, seeming to do him physical harm. Within those moments of distraction for the elf prince the orcs managed to come within swinging distance of their weapons.

His bow no more use at such close range, Legolas drew his twin blades, parrying the shots at his chest and neck and stabbing any of the unfortunate creatures that came too close for his comfort. The number of orcs was dwindling visibly as they fought the elf. Legolas used all of the grace and speed his heritage had granted him and every battle skill that he possessed in his lithe frame to fend off the evil beings. Even as he brought down one orc after another, there still were too many for him to handle, and he had to stay constantly alert so as not to have one slip underneath his guard.

Legolas cried out in shock and pain as metal links were dragged across his slim shoulders, the force of the blow bringing him to his knees. The orc behind him swung the chain he held proudly and a gurgling laugh emitted from his throat, which was soon stabbed through with one of the elf's knives. As the wounded prince dealt with the orc that had injured him, another stepped forward and whacked the handle of its ax hard against the back of Legolas' skull.

"No!" Estel cried, rising to his knees despite the heavy weight of the chains around his wrists. "Legolas!"

The elf collapsed limply to the ground, unconscious. The orcs laughed and all began speaking in the dark language at the same time, obviously expressing their ideas on what to do with the elf for how they pointed dispassionately at the unmoving figure at their feet. Soon one shouted in the common dialect, much louder than the others:

"Let's just put him in chains with the human! It's not every day you get an elf to play with." Estel could only watch helplessly as his friend was put into shackles much like the boy's, with chains too heavy for any living being to bear. The orcs stripped him of his weapons, snarling in disgust as they lifted the elf up and dragged him over to throw him uncaringly down onto the ground next to Estel. Two guards were posted to watch over the prisoners while the rest went off to rest.

Estel, watched by the orc guards, crawled slowly over to Legolas' limp form, the chains he was bound to chinking loudly in the oncoming darkness and trailing after him. The boy carefully turned the elven prince over onto his back. Legolas' eyes were closed and he did not respond to Estel's stumbling Elvish. The boy was utterly helpless without his friend there to protect him and he felt very afraid surrounded by the orcs with none to comfort him. He had to settle for curling up in Legolas' limp arms, his head resting over his friend's heart to be assured that it still beat strongly. A few tears fell from his eyes and sank into the dark green fabric of Legolas' tunic.

Before Estel fell into a light sleep, he wondered if his elven family would ever know what happened to them.

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Whoo! I hope that was long enough for ya! It seems our boys have gotten into trouble, hm? Uh-oh. Reviews, pwease!


	13. Gah! Torture, I'm all 4 creative titles

A/N: Wow, I'm so sorry this took so long! I just started school and I also started a new story, the "Lego-sue" one. I just managed to squeeze this little update in before I'm too busy. I hope you like it!

Warning: This chapter contains the beginning of violence (i.e.- whipping, kicking, punching) and forms of abuse. If you're too squeamish for that kind of stuff, especially when it's applied to a five-year-old boy, I suggest you **leave**. However, if you _enjoy_ torture, like me, and are wild animals in that sense, then please, continue. -grin-

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Disclaimer: Tolkien, you're a genious! I could never hope to have the great ideas he did. Therefore, anything related to "Lord of the Rings" is not in my possession. Ah, alas. 'Tis the bittersweet taste of fanfiction.

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ch.13

"Ada, we could not find any trace of them," Elladan reported, mounting the steps where the elven lord was waiting. Elrond noted the hint of worry in the eldest twin's voice. Elrohir followed silently after his identical brother, his own brow creased with concern at the sudden disappearance of Estel and the prince. Arwen stood next to her father, gazing into the forest.

Elrond ran a hand over his face and stared up at the starry sky, wondering where on Arda the boy could be. "I am sure they are merely late or lost, a harmless predicament they will overcome." He tried to be positive for his children, but his own heart was bleeding with anxiety, and the mask of confidence did not fool them.

"What will we tell the king?" Elrohir whispered, causing all that heard to tremble in fear of the outcome they were sure it would garner if they told him that his only son was missing. Elrond sighed.

"Nothing," he said, turning back inside, "yet. We will wait and see if they return. If not…" He did not finish his sentence and did not need to, for the imaginations of his offspring finished it for him in their minds.

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"Legolas, you must wake," Estel whispered fearfully, glancing back at the roused orcs laughing in the light of the fire. They'd had a good enough share of ale to last for nights, yet at the moment it was all brewing in the deep pits of their stomachs. The rowdy bickering of the evil creatures frightened the boy and he was afraid they would take their energy out on the prisoners. Estel gripped the front of the elf's tunic tightly in his fists and gently shook the still unconscious prince. The hour was nearing two after midnight, and Legolas had still had not awakened yet. Estel was beginning to wonder if the orcs had done something to him when they had knocked him out.

"Legolas, please, you cannot leave me here alone!" Estel whispered frantically. He buried his face into Legolas' chest, tears streaming from his silver eyes. He wanted to go home. He wanted Ada and the twins, Arwen. He wanted the elf beneath him to wake.

"Legolas…"

His pleas were stopped as a rough and ungentle hand grasped his forearm and jerked him to his feet. He was wrenched unwillingly away from Legolas and dragged over to the fire, where he was thrown onto the ground, the chains digging uncomfortably into his skin.

"Here now, we'll ask Raznul about the elf, but we still don't know what to do with the boy!"

"I still say we eat him."

"Shut up, Fraeg! No one asked your opinion, anyway!"

Estel curled in on himself, covering his head in his arms and balling in tightly. He heard the sounds of a fight to his right and screeches of the orcs, as well as the earth groaning beneath their weight as they scuffled in their brawl.

"Ai now! Why not just use him as a play toy! It'll be fun to hear his screams!"

The rippling sound of roars met Estel's ears as they all agreed in enthusiasm. Estel was jerked to his feet once again and dragged to a tree, where the long chains were tied around the trunk, holding the boy at a spread-eagled position, his arms and shoulders strained from the pull of the chains. The orcs stripped him to his waist, discarding of the silver blue tunic in the forest. Estel trembled at the sudden cold and the fear gripping his heart. The bark of the tree behind him dug painfully into his skin.

A large orc stepped forward, shaking the kinks out of a long tongued lash. It laughed evilly as it saw the fear in its prisoner's eyes and wagged the black leather tauntingly in front of Estel's face.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked, trailing a claw down the boy's cheek. "And it makes beautiful designs on such soft flesh when it is used properly." The orc hooked a gnarled finger underneath Estel's chin, tilting his face up to stare evenly with his tormentor. It found amusement as the boy jerked his head sharply away, refusing to meet the orc's bloodshot gaze.

Estel cried out in surprise and pain as the whip was dragged across his side, licking around his ribs before withdrawing. Estel felt a trickle of blood run down his skin. The mark that had been made was thin and not deep, but the boy was surprised at how much it hurt. The orc gathered around chuckled at the emotion playing across Estel's young features.

"It will only get worse, boy!" one rasped from the crowd. The orc holding the whip nodded and smiled, revealing pointed teeth. It twirled the whip in small circles. It stepped slowly forward, scanning its red eyes over Estel's body as if trying to decide which part would hurt most when brought in contact with the torture devise it held in its hand. It at last made its choice, and raised the lash above its head.

When Legolas woke, he instantly wished he hadn't. His head hurt terribly and his heart seemed to be pounding a panicked rhythm in his chest. He did not yet open his eyes for fear what he would find. Slowly, his other senses came to him. He felt cold metal biting into his wrists and the ground beneath his back. He could smell the forest as well as the nauseating stench of the orcs. But when his hearing arrived, his blood ran cold. He heard orcs' laughter and the piercing sound of a whip, but that was not was what struck him the hardest. The sound that stopped his heart was the anguished, familiar cry that echoed through the trees.

The elf sat bolt upright, even though his head swirled at the motion. The chains around him clanked and grated upon each other as he twirled around, facing the direction of the evil sounds. He got unsteadily to his feet and crept up to the crowd of vecz surrounding the base of a tree, from where the cries of pain and the lash's strikes came from. Legolas gripped his chain tightly in his fists as he drew closer.

The next blow sent Estel's head reeling. His torso was already marred with ugly red stripes delivered by the whip, and blood ran freely down his skin. He wished for the pain to stop, but found himself treading a deep dark passage that only grew narrower as he felt unconsciousness drawing near. He closed his eyes as another bite from the lash rocked him and made him tense in the chains that held him so tightly against the tree. He shouted loudly at the now familiar pain that sent his whole body screaming for release at the torture. The whip had been going at a rhythm for almost ten minutes now, striking, resting, striking, resting again so Estel could gather his wits and sanity before striking again and upsetting all that the boy had collected.

Estel composed himself and waited for the expectant pain that would tip his being, but it never came. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking that maybe the orcs was only playing with him, and tensed his muscles, his nerves thrown outward to detect the bite of the lash that never came. Past the ringing in his ears, Estel heard the screeches of surprise and anger come from the orcs that had gathered around and the sound of a chain clinking together. The boy opened his eyes and forced the blurry world to come into focus.

"Estel!" Estel gasped, but the elf was too preoccupied to hear. The prince held the chain attached to him in both hands, swinging the heavy links with all the strength he held in his weakened body at the dark creatures gathered around the injured boy. As Estel watched, Legolas curled the chain around at the orc that held the bloodied whip, the thick links twirling around the creature's neck. Legolas grabbed the other end of the chain and placed a foot in the center of the orc's chest, throwing his weight back and jerking on the heavy chain he held. The orc's neck snapped with a loud crack, and it fell to the ground, dead. The other orcs leaped forward with one large, thunderous cry and pressed in on the elf that had killed their leader.

Legolas swiftly untangled the chain from around the dead orc's throat and defended himself against the evil creatures that piled around him. He struggled to fend off the dirty beings, but now that their rage and attention was focused completely on him, they proved too much for him. They managed to get the nimble elf off his feet and began beating on him with their fists and boots, since none of their weapons were at hand. Estel watched in horror as Legolas disappeared beneath the wave of orcs and tugged against his bonds, despite the searing pain it caused. Suddenly one orc reached down and tugged the elf up, throwing him at Estel's feet. Legolas crumpled to the ground. His breaths heaved as he struggled for air. He had all but suffocated in the massive press of the evil beings.

The elf raised his head and met Estel's silver, glistening eyes with his own proud blue ones, saying with just his gaze that the boy should not worry. Estel could not help such a thing as worry. Bruises darkened the prince's fair face and blood ran freely from a split lip. The boy knew that the way the elf held himself that there were many other ugly marks the creatures had inflicted upon him hidden beneath the dark green tunic.

The orcs seized Legolas' arms and hauled the elf to the side. They tugged him to his knees and two held him in place, the being they held hanging limply in their grasp, his head bowed. One tangled its gnarled hand in the golden locks and yanked the prince's head back upright as another orc stepped forward. It now held the whip and smiled cruelly at the boy and elf.

"It seems our other companion has joined the fun," it growled. "Welcome, good elf. It is beautiful, is it not?" It waved a hand at Estel's scarred body. Pure feral rage snapped through the light blue eyes of the elven prince and fixed the orc with a hating glare he had inherited from his father. While the glower would at least tremble the knees of most beings it was turned upon, the orc only laughed as if from a joke. It hooked a twisted finger underneath the elf's chin and tilted his head up.

"Your turn for beauty will come soon enough, maggot," it grumbled. Legolas jerked his head away from the touch. The orc holding his hair yanked the elf's head back painfully, while the one holding the whip granted the stubborn Legolas a backhanded slap with its armored hand. Legolas tasted blood in his mouth and gazed back up at the orc in front of him.

"You will also learn how to behave around your masters," the orc clamored. Legolas' eyebrows knitted and the fury in his eyes rose a few notches, if such a thing were possible. His gaze could have set the forest aflame.

"I have no master, spawn of darkness," he snarled in a low voice. He spat the blood he had in his mouth at the creature, receiving another blow from the armored hand as a result. The orc regarded the elf coolly, with a calculating gaze. Elves were never really easy to break, but enough pressure and pain could prove valuable to the results the orc wanted. The orc could see that this elf's spirit was wild and would be incredibly hard to harness and tame, but they had all the time in the world. All the time the elf had left to live in the world, that is.

"You will soon learn to think differently, _slave_," the beast emphasized the word, glad to see Legolas physically bristle. It revealed its pointed teeth again in a grin. "For now, just sit back and watch the show we will put on for you. I am sure you will find it amusing." The orc stalked back to the bleeding, trembling boy held in the chains and stroked the whip as if it were a pet that had pleased its master. Estel eyed the device fearfully, and Legolas hated the frightened gleam the silver eyes held, wishing to make it stop. He struggled against the orcs that held him, knowing what was coming.

Estel cried out in pain as the whip licked his already hurting body and creating a new mark across his skin. He jerked in his chains, trying unsuccessfully to get away from the pain that devoured his soul. The world around him faded and everything gave into darkness. He knew nothing but the new hurts being added to the old and the harsh, ungentle bite of the lash.

Legolas screamed in rage as the orc struck the bound boy, wrenching against the clawed hands gripping him and attempting to stand. The orcs struck him with their fists and feet as he still continued to struggle, but he was paying more attention to Estel's pain than his own. He felt completely helpless as he was forced to sit and watch the cruel treatment the young boy was being put through. Tears of horror tracked down the elf's face as the cries of pain renting from the throat of one much too young to deserve receiving such treatment pained his sensitive ears. He did not want harsh memories to stain the innocent life of his friend who had made him forget his. He would rather die than let Estel come to harm like this.

Yet the orcs' grips on his arms were like steel bands and would not let go, no matter how much he struggled. Legolas felt the rage he held building higher and higher until it was almost unbearable, and he let it out through screaming curses at the horrible creatures holding him in every language he knew, from Dwarfish to Stezctkin. Soon the steady beating of the whip ceased, and Estel collapsed limply in the chains, his head lolling forward.

"Legolas…" he murmured quietly, his voice rasping from the cries he had emitted. Legolas pulled against the clawed hands.

"_Nin-dethro hîn_, Estel, _nin-dethro hîn_!" Legolas called in Elvish. "_Nyóch de_ _sinén halenth_!_ Nin-halé freythïn hén_! I am here, Estel, I am here! Do not fear! I will not leave you!" Estel relaxed in his bonds as he gave way to unconsciousness, comforted by the sound of Elvish. The orcs howled and covered their ears at the sound of the flowing language. The ones holding Legolas kicked him roughly for uttering the words. The orc holding the whip snapped the device in its hand and stalked up to the elf, holding the prince's chin between its claws tightly and forcing him to look up at it.

"Never," it snarled, "never use that cursed dialect near our ears again, elf!" Legolas jerked his head away and spat at the creature.

"_Lastô nëth en sai, jyeùi_!" the elven prince said lethally. "I will not be silenced, scum!" The orc flinched visibly at the words and backhanded the elf prisoner, snapping Legolas' head to the side painfully. It snatched Legolas' chin in its hand and brought their faces close together. It took an amazing amount of courage to still glare at an orc when that close, but somehow Legolas managed to find it. The stench of the orc's breath nearly made him gag.

"I see that it is your turn for learning manners, elf," it growled. It raised its head and barked to the rest of the orcs, "Untie the boy! It's his turn." It shook Legolas roughly in its grasp and snapped the whip in the air, laughing as it saw a hint of apprehension in the confident elf's gaze.

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"Lord Elrond," King Thranduil called, stepping into the comfy fire room. A large flame was set in the stone fireplace, casting a warm light and glow. Pillows and couches sat around the fireplace. The fire room was mostly used at the end of the day and was a public place, where the elders of Rivendell told their stories. No one save Elrond and his children were there at the moment. The elven lord was sitting on one of the couches, and the twins and their sister were sprawled inelegantly in the pillows on the floor. None looked very relaxed at all.

Elrond glanced up at the king's entry. "Yes?"

"Where is Legolas? Have you seen him anywhere?" Thranduil asked, stopping to stand in front of the lounging elves. The king noted on howElrond's children looked away, a near shameful look on each of their faces. He turned back to Elrond, who was staring at his clasped hands resting in his lap.

"Lord Elrond? Is there something I should know?" The elven lord sighed slightly and looked up reluctantly, meeting the glare of the king.

"Both Legolas and Estel left to roam the forest and have not yet returned," Elrond said slowly, trying to ease down the growing dread in his chest. "We searched for them a few hours ago and hoped that they would come back. They haven't." Thranduil stood silently in shock for a moment, staring in disbelief at the elven lord. The only sound was the crackling of the large flames of the fire, and even they seemed too loud.

"My son…is lost…_again?_" Thranduil thundered, the shout echoing off the stone walls of the fire room. It was the only place in Lord Elrond's home built of stone, and therefore it was the most soundproof, but Elrond would not be surprised if Thranduil's roar had been heard throughout Rivendell.

Thranduil threw up his hands and turned away. He paced the room once, and then came back to Elrond, his anger only risen.

"I thought you had learned your lesson the first time he snuck away!" Thranduil demanded. "He was in your care last time and still is!"

"Then it is your fault as well as mine that he is missing, King Thranduil, for he was also under your care, was he not? He is _your _son after all. And might I remind you that my own son had disappeared? We are both worried for their sake, so why must we argue about how this came to be? We must work together to find them, not stand here and argue over whose fault it is!"

"And how will we do that when we do not even know which direction they went?" Thranduil asked. "How do we know where to start?"

"We followedLegolas' trail to a clearing, where he probably met up with Estel," Elrohir suddenly said, standing from the pillow in which he had lain. "From there they went through the forest, but then we lost their trail heading through some ivy. We can try to relocate it."

"You do that, Elladan, Elrohir," Elrond nodded to his two sons. "King Thranduil and I will stay here and see if they return."

"I'm going too," Arwen said, standing beside her younger brothers. "I can help."

"Any help is appreciated, Arwen," Elrond said. "Go now." His offspring hurried quickly away and out of sight. Elrond sat back down on the couch, offering a seat to the elven king, but Thranduil refused and went to stand by one of the large open windows, gazing out into the forest. His heart ached with worry.

"Where are you, Legolas?" he whispered into the unresponsive darkness. "Why do you stay in the dark, where I cannot see you?"

---------------

Estel shifted softly and his eyes creaked open. He did not know where he was, or why his body hurt so much. He turned his head and saw a blurry form curved over him protectively, slim arms supporting his back and holding him close to a steadily rising and falling chest that was encased in a steady bluish glow.

"Legolas?" Estel murmured, recognizing the person that held him. The elf, his head resting on the boy's chest, stirred slightly at the sound of Estel's voice. His eyes were closed in his sleep. Estel realized that the prince was trembling slightly, and wondered why. Legolas' tunic was gone, and the young boy saw the ugly red marks sliced into the fair being's skin. He gasped softly and gently touched one of the scars on the elf's chest that was still bleeding freely. Legolas moaned at the placid touch, his muscles tensing beneath the boy he held. His eyes slowly opened and bleary blue eyes fixed to the silver ones watching him. Legolas sat bolt upright, giving Estel a full view of the horrible state he was really in. He leaned in closer to Estel, concern etched into his features.

"Estel?" he asked. "How do you feel?"

"I hurt," the boy replied, his eyes flicking over the red stripes that marked his elven friend's bare torso. "Did they whip you, too?" His large eyes gazed warily at the elf, who smiled and leaned comfortingly over the boy, letting their brows rest against each other. Legolas closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yes, Estel," he whispered. "But I am more worried about you. You should not have been beaten like that…I thought my heart stopped when I saw you. I'm so sorry, Estel, I tried to get to you, I did…" He didn't finish his sentence and tears escaped his closed lids as he remembered the horrible feeling of helplessness, being forced to watch Estel's torture and not being able to stop it…

"Legolas, you tried," Estel murmured, brushing away the tears that clung to the prince's dark eyelashes. "I felt the same way when they hit you and made you wear chains. There was nothing we could do." Legolas nodded, his eyes still closed. He suddenly felt like the child and Estel the adult. He swore to himself that he would be strong for the boy and not give up hope for Estel's sake.

"_Hannon le_, Estel," Legolas murmured. Estel smiled and closed his eyes, exhaustion from the beating and the long night catching up on him and pulling him to sleep. Legolas smiled softly as the small body he cradled fell limp as the boy fell to sleep. He kissed Estel's brow gently.

"Rest now, Estel," he murmured. "You need strength to last another day."

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I hope that was long enough! Reviews please!


	14. NOOOOO ::gasp:: OOOOOO! lol

A/N: This update is way overdue, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I've been hard at work with "Legosue", which I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying, and I was was working so hard trying to satisfy the readers of that story that I forgot entirely about this one. I apologize, and I hope I haven't lost any of you, and that you're still willing to read this. There's not much left of the story. And I send a large thank you out to one of my reviewers, **Andeldaiel**, who was actually the one who booted me into updating this story. Thanx, I really needed a slap in the face to wake me up and realize that there might be readers waiting for the continuation of the story! -smooches!-

Not much longer now!

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Disclaimer: None of it is mine. That's the irony of fanfiction.

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ch.14

"Tell me, elf, do you ever give up?" Xin asked, ceasing his pacing and glaring at the prince. Legolas bowed his head and did not answer. Xin backhanded the elf again, jerking Legolas' head to the side. The prince wiped his bleeding lip on his shoulder since his hands were of no use.

"Answer me when I am talking to you!" Xin growled. "I will ask the question again. Do you ever give up?" Legolas smiled softly despite the situation.

"Never," he whispered. Xin snarled deep in his throat and whapped the whip against Legolas' ribs. The elf tensed and bit his bleeding lip, but did not cry out. He would not give the orc the pleasure of hearing his screams.

"I see," Xin drawled, fingering the bloody lash. "You will be hard to break, but it will be all the more satisfying when I do succeed." Legolas glowered at his captor.

"The only way you will break me is if you kill me," he snarled. "You can't take me." The elf was rewarded with another bite from the whip. He jerked in his bonds.

"A barbed tongue will be no good to you here, elf," Xin growled. "The only thing it will grant you is another moment of pain, another day of misery, another year of angst and a whole lifetime of anguish ahead of you. You should speak better to your masters."

"I have no master," Legolas spat, closing his eyes as another blow from the lash stung his hurting body.

"You will soon," Xin replied, swinging the whip again, "realize that you are wrong. I am your master and you will learn to deal with it."

"You can do whatever you want, but you will never have my obedience," Legolas gasped around the pain that was blurring his vision. Xin's lip lifted in a snarl, his anger rising at the fight the elf was putting up. His growl suddenly turned to a purr as a wonderful thought hit him. He strutted to the captive boy, swinging the whip merrily and making sure Legolas saw where he was going. The light blue eyes widened in horror as they saw what the orc commander was planning to do. He tugged uselessly against his bonds, the links of the chain digging into his flesh.

"No! Do whatever you want with me but do not harm the boy!" Legolas pleaded, watching as the lash was raised. Estel shrank back from the evil being in front of him, pulling back against his captors. Xin smiled evilly.

"Too late, elf," he laughed. "You are too stubborn for your own good and have pushed me to the limit. Now you get to watch this one's suffering." The lash descended.

"_NO!_"

Legolas raged against the chains holding him like an untamed steed, screaming curses in every language he knew. Xin ignored the roars and continued to beat the pitiful form of the boy in front of him, enjoying the small cries of pain that met his ears. He knew he would receive this kind of reaction from the prince; the two prisoners seemed close and willing to protect each other at any cost, and therefore, while they were each other's strength, they were also each other's weakness. Xin could have laughed at the irony of it, which he did anyway, only increasing the elf's unrelenting wave of fury.

Legolas was so angry the world came through his eyes in a red haze. He would not have been surprised if the calming blue of his eyes swirled into a mist of garnet. His throat began to burn from the things he was screaming at the horrid orc, and half of the things he roared into the air he had never uttered before, so vulgar were they. He felt as if he had suddenly burst into flame in the frigid air. He watched each stroke of the whip upon Estel's skin to be another reason for revenge, another orc that would lie dead by his hand. He vowed it to the forests and his own star that he would take the life from the one destroying Estel's.

Suddenly he switched to the common language so the orc commander could understand him. "You are weak, you filthy spawn of darkness, weak! Instead of facing me you try and force me through the torture of a small boy, one who is not even ten, only because he is smaller than you and cannot resist against the beatings! You call yourself strong, then face me! Do not tell me you are frightened of me, you scrap of immoral beast!" Xin ceased the strokes of the lash and froze even as Legolas thundered the entire speech. Estel lay on the ground, curled in on himself and bleeding, and felt the whip bites end. He risked peeking through his arms at the orc standing over him, and almost hid again when he saw the rage and fury boiling over the misshapen face.

With a bellow of flaring ire, the orc commander spun on his heel and raised the whip, this time the target the flesh of the elf, not of the little boy. Legolas bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut as the threshing began, but Estel saw not fear or pain in his eyes when the blue orbs were covered, the boy saw…accomplishment. Legolas had meant to draw the orc's attention away from his friend and he had succeeded. Estel raised himself to his knees, the all too familiar grasp of orcs' claws digging into his forearms as he gazed on in horror at Legolas' beating.

Xin seemed to be taking out every figment of rage and anger out on the helpless elf, using all of his strength through the lash he held. Every thew of Legolas' body was tense as he accepted the whipping silently, his eyes closed and refusing to let tears of pain pass. He struggled not to cry out and pressed his lips together tightly in an effort to not do so as each whip stroke hurt worse than the last. He felt consciousness slipping away from him and gave in willingly, his tight muscles going slack in the bonds, his head falling forward. Xin panted in near extortion, giving one last blow to the unconscious elf for only spite. Estel had tears streaming down his cheeks and did not notice them. He flinched when Xin waved his hand, but the movement was only a signal and the orc guards threw him onto the ground near their camp. Estel scrambled around and realized that they had left Legolas chained to the tree. He stumbled to his feet.

"Please…w-what about my friend?" he stammered weakly. The orcs laughed at his request as if it were a great joke.

"What about 'im?" one asked. "He can enjoy his time there while it lasts. He deserves it after gettin' the boss so angry. Enjoy the view, maggot." They stalked off, leaving a small, weeping bundle huddled on the ground and a bleeding, lean elf attached to a tree behind them.

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King Thranduil paced the fire room restlessly, his piercing gray gaze fixed to the floor. It had been a night and a day since Legolas and Estel went missing, and the two fathers were nearly fraying at the edges from worry. The twins and Arwen had come back late last night, having found nothing, and went to their rooms to rest before setting out once more that evening to search for their friends. Lord Elrond andThranduil stayed in the fire room still. They had not left since the information had reached the elven king's ears and chose to remain.

"King Thranduil, please sit down," Elrond muttered calmly. The other elf's pacing was beginning to wear his nerves. Thranduil shook his head mutely and continued to walk back and forth across the interior, his boots soundless against the stone floor. Elrond sat rigidly on the couch by the fire. He stared at his hands resting in his lap, then out the window, but neither view provided any comfort for his crazed and anxious heart. He sighed quietly as Thranduil turned at the windows and walked to the other side of the room.

"Thranduil, please, stop pacing," the elven lord said softly, a hint of frustration in his voice. "It is beginning to make me nervous."

"Beginning!" The king raged, throwing his hands into the air. "Beginning? You should be as nervous as I am! How can you sit there so calmly while our sons might be in danger? How can you possibly care about anything else?"

"I admit that I am anxious, yes, but I at least still have hope that the boys are all right," Elrond replied calmly. "I am not letting my nervousness eat away at me." _From what you at least see on the outside._ Thranduil grunted and came back to the windows again. There he stopped and stared out at the sky, for which Elrond was relieved. The pacing had been annoying him greatly.

"You have others," the king muttered softly, surprising the elven lord more than if he had suddenly hollered. "Other children that are still here for you." There was emotion swaying in Thrnaduil's tone and eyes that was too great to be missed. Elrond stood and came to the king's side by the window, a small comfort if any should Thranduil want to find consolation in someone.

The elven king gazed at the stars for a moment. "Legolas and I used to climb trees when he was younger. We would most likely creep from the palace at night, while his mother was not watching us. She would always chide us about going out of the palace walls while it was dark outside. I taught Legolas how to climb trees." Thranduil smiled softly and shook his head at the fond memories. The small smile disappeared and sudden tears swarmed through the deep gray depths.

"I helped him climb up by himself. I remember being so proud when he reached the top, being so happy when I saw the self-confidence and joy in his eyes. Then he embraced me and said, 'I love you, Ada.' I loved him too. And I still do." The tears slid down Thranduil's fair cheeks, but he did not bother brushing them away. Elrond took a deep breath and said probably the hardest thing he ever had to.

"He is convinced that you do not," the elven lord whispered softly. Thranduil turned pain-filled eyes to Elrond, who could not meet them and stared at his hands instead.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked. "Has he told you this?"

"Yes," Elrond murmured. "He has told me that he thinks you do not love him. He also told me that he believes you blame him for his mother's death and thence so shun him for it."

"How? How can he think such things?"

"You have never corrected him, Thranduil," Elrond said, at last meeting the king's gaze with his own. "Have you ever told him once that you do not believe it was his fault?"

"Yes," Thranduil replied. "I told him."

"When?"

"When he was a child, the night it happened."

"Have you ever told him after that night?"

"No. He has never brought it up."

"And that is why he still believes it is his fault. You cannot only tell him once for the guilt to be killed. The fact that you did not, as well as the fact that you further withdrew from him, let the guilt grow and spread until it sucked him of all emotion save it and self-loathing. Can you believe, Thranduil, that your own son was afraid of you seeing him when he was injured? He was frightened that it would only bring your acceptance of him lower and that you would dislike him more."

"But I do not dislike him," Thranduil said quickly, his mind whirling from all of the information on his son he was receiving. The fact that the elven lord knew more of Legolas than the king did himself was fearful.

"Did you ever tell him that?" Elrond asked in sudden vehemence, slapping his open palm on the stone windowsill. "What more, did you ever tell him you loved him for who he was?" The elven king felt the unpleasant sensation of heart-crushing guilt flow into him. No, he had never told his son that he did not hate him. No, he had never said he loved his one and only child, whom he cherished more than the world itself. That was why Thranduil had seen the slight flicker of fear enter his son's eyes when he had entered the room the day he had arrived in Rivendell. That was why Legolas had apologized to his father before the king had left. Because the young prince was claiming the guilt that rightfully belonged to Thranduil.

The king let the tears speak what his heart was screaming. He paced back to one of the couches in front of the fire and collapsed ungracefully into it, putting his head in his hands and shaking from the sobs that shook his lithe frame. He admitted to himself now: he had been a horrible father for Legolas all these years. Thranduil had gotten only the best things for his son, from tutors to wellbeing to even clothes and food, but he had never given to Legolas what all children deserved. Undying love. Thranduil felt it in his heart, of course, but he had never shown it nor faced it directly, and for that Legolas was frightened of him, for that Legolas was locked in his own stoic shell. For that the prince held all of this guilt and sorrow that could have been banished, if Thranduil had only spoken what he felt for his son.

_I have been healing well in this place, Adar, and not just physically._

That was what Legolas had meant those nights ago. His heart had been healing, he had tried to tell his father that, but Thranduil had ignored the statement and had tried to take the prince away. He had not paid any attention to the inner needs of his son.

The distraught elven king rocked himself gently back and forth as he wept openly, trying to comfort himself, though at the moment he felt like taking his own life. He felt no shame in crying in front of Elrond, for he had even forgotten that the elven lord was there, so wrapped in his grief was he.

Thranduil winced as he felt Elrond's hand upon his back. The lord sat down next to the king and gave what consolation he could. Thranduil averted his gaze and let his hands drop away from his face. When he at last spoke, his voice was filled with sorrow.

"Legolas is the only thing I have left," he whispered. "He is the only thing that keeps me alive. Instead of being joyous that I at least did not lose my only son, I grieved for the loss of my wife and kept distance between Legolas and I. That is not what I should have done; I should have told him every day since his mother's death that I loved him dearly…I never did, and I might never will now that he is gone, possibly in some grave danger. I will probably never get to tell him that I do not blame him, I do love him more than anything else in the world and that I was the wrong one all these years…" Thranduil's words were lost as he began to weep again, too strongly for any to get past his grief. Elrond stayed close as a silent comfort and allowed the king to stay locked in his own tomb of misery. He at last spoke, his voice soft.

"All hope is not lost, Thranduil," Elrond whispered. "They could yet still be saved, if we could only find them. You have now recognized your faults; the only thing that will ease them is if you voice them to your son, who we will find, I promise you that. They cannot be far and you will get the chance to see him again."

"Dead or alive?" Thranduil mumbled quietly. Elrond sighed.

"That is still unknown, yet do not fear too much or grieve too soon. There is always hope, in whatever situation, the only problem is you have to find it. Find yours, Thranduil, and if you hang onto it, it can do wondrous things. But do not use it over its expanse, for if proved wrong it could become vicious." The elven king was silent for a moment before he chose his words and used them.

"You were always wiser than me, Elrond," he murmured. "And, as you usually were then and now, you are right. The boys will be found before long. Thank you. It must be as hard for you as it is for me, and yet you are still strong enough to comfort me. You have come to love that human boy, I can see that." The elven lord smiled softly.

"You are correct in that. I do love Estel, he is like another son to me, and I will not see him gone so early in his young life." Thranduil nodded and his gaze found the hypnotic dance of the flames. The two leaders of elven realms, the two fathers, sat silently as the night sounds filtered through the open windows behind them.

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Legolas slowly came awake, the sharp piercing pain of a headache behind his eyes being the first thing he was aware of. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter to try and blunt the pain in his head. The second thing he noticed was that every inch of him hurt, and that his shoulders were greatly strained. His arms felt stretched and he was sure some muscle tissue was torn. He opened his eyes, receiving another spike of pain behind his brow, and tried to take in his surroundings. It was dark outside, he saw, and the orcs were gathered around a fire to stave off the chill in the air, of which the elf was soon completely aware of and began to tremble furiously in the chains that held him.

His hearing was the second thing that he perceived, and the orcs' harsh laughter suddenly seemed much too loud combined with the crackle of the fire and the soft weeping coming from below him.

Weeping…?

Legolas looked down and saw Estel curled against the trunk of the tree the elf was chained to, his head buried in his arms and his knees pulled up to his chest to save warmth and find comfort. The small boy's shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly, struggling not to be heard by the orcs, for that would only bring attention to himself and they would have caught him in his moment of weakness. His body hurt from the beatings he had received earlier in the day and he wanted his ada. He felt he was stuck in hell and there was no way out.

Legolas felt a pain sharper and greater than that in his head and arms. He wanted to touch the boy, to comfort him and show him that he was not the only one who wanted to go home, but he could only tug uselessly against his bonds, which caused him more pain anyway. Estel, alerted by the quiet sound of the chinking chains, snapped his head up and saw that Legolas was looking at him through pained and bleary eyes. The small boy immediately leaped to his feet.

"Are you…alright?" Legolas asked through gritted teeth as he tried not to reveal the amount of hurt he was in. Estel was not fooled and reached out to help, but soon jerked is hand back as he realized that touching the elf would only increase the pain.

"I'm fine," the boy replied softly, wiping the tears away from his face with the back of his hand. "I'm worried about you, Legolas."

"I'll…be fine," the elf whispered with a reassuring smile. "Worry not, Estel. They cannot break me nor will I let them break you."

"You should not have done that," Estel said, remembering the prince's sacrifice for his own safety. "I could handle it, you didn't need to put yourself in pain just for me."

"I wanted to, Estel," Legolas whispered. "I could not sit by and watch them hurt you when there was a chance I could stop it. And I did. That was the only thing I wanted. It puts me through more pain to simply watch them torment you than to go through the torment myself. I hate seeing them hurt you so severely. No young one deserves to have memories of such pain or grief."

"But Legolas…" Tears had begun to trace down Estel's face again. The elf shook his head slightly.

"No, Estel. Do not weep. Come here," he whispered softly. Estel drew slightly closer. Legolas gestured with his head for the boy to come even closer until he stood just inches away from the chained prince. Legolas stared deeply into the misty silver eyes barely three inches away.

"Do not lose hope, Estel," Legolas murmured. "There is always a way to escape from horrible places. I escaped the first time and I was barely older than you. If you find hope and believe in it you can do things that you never knew you could do before. Now look at me," Legolas said, for Estel had averted his gaze, "and know that we will get out of here together."

"Alive or dead?" Estel asked quietly, asking the very question that was burned in Legolas' mind at the very moment. The elf smiled faintly.

"Either way," he whispered. "We will go together. I will not leave you behind, I promise." The boy nodded.

"I will not leave you behind either, Legolas," he murmured. The elven prince smiled and bowed his head in exhaustion. His wounds were grieving him and he was torn and drained from when he had pulled against the bonds. He closed his eyes as Estel's concerned questions rang in his ears.

"Don't worry, Estel," Legolas whispered as he felt consciousness leave him. His entire body relaxed in the chains. Estel watched the elf's still form in concern before he sat against the tree again, curling into a tight ball to find warmth in the chilly night air. He hoped, even as his eyes closed and sleep found him, that tomorrow would not be so bad. He did not know how wrong he was.

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Hours. Hours of it. Never stopping, relenting, giving him rest. His entire body shrieked in pain and he felt as if his soul were being physically wrenched from him. He hung loosely in his bonds, trying to ignore the mounting pain building in his nerves and the choking, angering laughter that rang from the orcs' throats. Throats he so wanted to pierce with a knife or throttle with his bare hands. The entire world around him warped and swam in dizzying patterns, making him want to retch. There was no relief.

Xin grinned cruelly as he delivered another stroke of the lash to the limp form hanging in the chains. He reveled in the violent wince that came from the bleeding body, the slight cry of pain that emerged from the prisoner's dry throat. Finally. The cruel treatment was beginning to take a toll on the being they held captive. Xin could almost see his soul bending, groaning under the weight of the abuse and distress, ready to snap at any moment. Any more of this and it would shatter.

Xin rewarded the prisoner with another bite from the whip, and another, the cries renting the air becoming louder and fueling the orc's greed for the sight of the soul's shattered pieces. The orcs gathered around for the horrid event cheered as their commander delivered another blow to the captive, chuckling gutturally at the hoarse cry of pain tearing from the being. It had taken some beatings and cruel treatment for the prisoner to even begin voicing his pain, but it had all been worth it to see the now lax form held in the chains. They knew as well as Xin did that it would take only minutes now for the process to be complete, and that their work would be rewarded only when the captive called Xin his master and released every shred of hope or strength.

First they had beaten the prisoner with the whip in rapid succession, their impatience and frustration mounting when the abused body they were flogging stayed silent. They then began to take out different torture devices their own master had invented, testing out the new tools on their captive. Their abuse included fire and spikes, metal-ended clubs and sharp, thin spines plunged into the open wounds of their 'play toy.' They had even given the prisoner a dose of Wyvern Milk, a certain poison that caused the nerves to overreact to pain. Only after the poison was applied would the captive cry out in pain, being beaten by the whip and other tools while the toxin was in his system, making one tiny pinch feel like two dragon claws clenching his flesh.

Now that the Wyvern Milk had worn off, they were simply beating the prisoner relentlessly, enjoying his cries and waiting for the moment that would declare him snapped. Xin stopped only often enough to ask who the captive's master was, continuing when the poor being gasped out the answer that no one owned him. They were all waiting anxiously for the answer that would prove all of their work necessary.

Xin halted his cruel whipping. The prisoner was gasping loudly, struggling to remain conscious after all that had been done to him. The orc commander strutted forward casually, snatching the bleeding being's chin in his armored hand and tilting the face up to reveal the pain-glazed eyes. The orc army leaned forward, hearing the well-known question that Xin asked yet again.

"Who is your master?" the cruel, harsh voice of Xin asked. "Who owns your body, mind and soul?" The prisoner hesitated before answering. Fear and doubt flickered across his clouded eyes as he stared into the face of his tormentor. He opened his mouth.

"…Y-you."

Xin released the prisoner with a triumphant smile and turned back to the roaring orcs that stood behind him. The captive fell limp when the orc commander let go of him, utter shame and self-loathing filling him to capacity. He wished to die that very moment and knew that he did not deserve an eased passing.

The prisoner bowed his head, silver tears echoing his shame.

Legolas Greenleaf was finally broken.

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Not good. Reviews, please! If you beg, I might update faster:oD


	15. GASP! did i just do what i think i did?

AN: Yay! Another update! I just want to thank you all so much for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me! Aaaaaannnnd a BIG thank you to **HarryEstel**! Why? Because the dear reviewed every single chapter, all with good things to say! Thanx girl! -huggles- And cookies for all the others! Woo!

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Disclaimer: I really don't have enough time to come up with anything witty for the disclaimer because my bus is about to come to take me to school. So I'm going to just say: None of it is mine.

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(I'm listening to Green Day. God, those guys rock my sox. :oD "Ha ha you're dead, and I'm so happy..." one of their songs; hilarious)

ch.15

Miles away, a light brown mare raged within her stable. She knew something was wrong. She could sense the evil in the air. It practically roared unmercifully in her ears. She wished to be freed from the small compartment in which she was being held. Her elf was in danger, she knew that and needed to find someone who could help her find him. She knew from the fact that he had not been to see her in days, and he normally came every other day to check up on her at least. His absence was suspicious and she felt it had something to so with the amount of immorality fogging the air. She snorted in frustration and exasperation as the sturdy wood door to her stable held. She didn't know how else to get help, besides…

Khílya raised her long snout to the sky and screeched as loudly as she could, adding a note of panic and fear into her tone. She hoped that it would alert the elves here and that they would come set her free to find her elf.

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Estel crawled slowly to the huddled form of the elf. His chains dragged slowly after him, slithering across the ground. In the dim light of the full moon, the boy could see the horrible state his elven friend was in, and he winced from only seeing Legolas' condition. There were burns and slashes marring the fair skin of his back and bruises dotted his arms. The prince was obviously in an enormous amount of pain. He was trembling violently and would not look up at Estel, even though he had heard the boy coming.

The small boy reached tentatively out and gently prodded his friend's arm. Legolas recoiled and gave a low hiss of pain, pressing his forehead against the earth. Estel instantly drew back, not wishing to cause his friend any more pain. He sat silently by the prince's side for a moment.

"What happened, Legolas?" he asked quietly, his voice's volume barely above the crickets that chirped deeply in the forest's depths. The elf curled in on himself tightly and turned away, tears of shame trailing down his face. Estel was not lost on his anguish.

"Legolas, please tell me," he whispered, bending down next to his friend to see his face. Legolas made a slight sound of angst and he withdrew further.

"Leave me, Estel," he murmured, refusing to look at the boy. Estel only came closer. He wanted to touch his friend but was afraid of causing the elf more pain.

"I will not," he whispered. "I promised never to leave you and I won't. Why won't you talk to me? What did I do wrong?" At that last sentence Legolas sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain it caused, and grabbed the boy's shoulders. Estel started at the sudden vehemence but stared back into the wide eyes of his friend.

"Nothing, Estel, you have done _nothing_," Legolas whispered urgently. "Do not blame yourself for what has happened to me. What I did was only my fault." Estel brushed the new tears away from Legolas' face.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"They…they have broken me," Legolas whispered hoarsely, bowing his head and allowing the normally proud stance of his shoulders slump. Estel shook his head. This elf was the strongest being he knew. They could not have broken him.

"I don't believe you," he said softly. Legolas chuckled once without mirth, more like a grunt.

"It is the truth. Have I ever lied to you before?"

"But…but how?"

"I wanted to get away from the pain, Estel," the elf said, raising his head again and meeting the boy's silver eyes. "I would have done anything they asked me to…I was so weak then…I am now owned by the orc commander."

"No, you are not," Estel said firmly, drawing forward until their foreheads touched. He gazed into the blue eyes merely inches from his own and held a stern gaze.

"Do you feel as though you are owned, Legolas?" Estel asked, sounding much older than his true age. "Do you feel the hold of the orc commander? Do you feel that you must do whatever he tells you to, no matter what the cost? Or do you still feel the tug of freedom at your heart, or feel the winds calling you to the forests of your home, or know that your soul and heart will always belong to only yourself and the wilderness, never to another? If so, then you are not owned. You will never be owned until you give up all hope or longing for the places and people you love. Only then, _mellon-nîn_, my friend, will you be owned."

Legolas stared in astonishment at the boy, wondering where the wisdom of his words had come from. It seemed that this experience had hollowed out the innocent young boy that had been Estel and replaced him with one that was much wiser than the number of his years. The elf saw the truth behind Estel's words and realized that the boy was right.

"But I even told him that he was my master," Legolas whispered.

"Did you mean what you said?" Estel asked. The prince shook his head slightly. "Then they were merely words," the boy murmured. "If you did not mean them then that means that they are not true."

"Oh, Estel," Legolas pulled his young friend into a tight embrace of gratitude. "Where have you gotten this sudden wisdom from?"

"From you, Legolas," Estel whispered, huddling in the elf's arms. "You never gave up hope in me. I am only returning the favor."

"_Hannon le_, Estel," Legolas whispered softly into his friend's ear. "You have been a light in my life ever since I first arrived. You healed me in a way no healer ever could, not even one as experienced as your father. You have a gift, Estel, use it well."

"I will, Legolas," the boy murmured, closing his eyes. The two of them fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, the light of the stars washing over them.

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"Did you hear that?" Thranduil asked, lifting his head. Elrond looked up as well. They were still seated on the couch near the fire, waiting for the twins and Arwen to return from their search. The king thought he had heard something from outside and stood up quickly. The elven lord followed and the two made their way outside, to where the sounds were coming from. Thranduil saw a horse thrashing within the confines of its stable, screeching as it had been doing for some minutes now.

"Khílya!" Thranduil cried, running to the stall. He remembered when Legolas had named the foal after his mother, so the king would know the horse almost as much as he did the original Khílya. Thranduil attempted to calm the mare without opening the door. Khílya rubbed her nose desperately against his outstretched hand and recognized the king for who he was in relation to her own elf. She nickered and slammed her hoof against the stable door, wanting to get out and find her elf who she knew was in trouble.

"This is Legolas' mare," Thranduil mused, wondering what had gotten the horse so agitated. He tried to reach her to calm her. "What is the problem?"

"She could know where he is," Elrond said. "I've been told that elven horses who have close bonds with their riders can find them when in trouble. It's ether that or she could follow his scent. We could let her lead us to where she might think he is."

"I am desperate enough to try it," Thranduil muttered, going to retrieve his own steed. Elrond strode and called his dappled gray horse from its stall. The elven king looped the end of a rope around Khílya's neck and tied the other around his own steed's throat. He leaped onto his mount's back and opened the stable door.

Khílya immediately burst from the stable with a loud whinny, taking off at a full gallop. Thranduil's steed nickered as the rope caught and forced it to match the mare's hurried pace so suddenly. Elrond followed close behind and they streaked through the forest in a blur. They passed close by the twins and Arwen on their own mounts on the path. The three shouted in surprise and soon took up the chase, following quickly behind their father and the panicked mare.

Khílya had never run so fast in her life, and she had galloped very fast before. She felt her legs straining and saw the path blurring by beneath her hooves, but with each frantic beat of her run and frenzied pump of her heart she feared she might be too late to save her elf.

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"Stop! He can't take anymore!"

Estel struggled against the orcs holding him the next evening, raging with all of his strength to try and reach Legolas. The elf was lying crumpled on the ground, his head bowed and tucked underneath his arms. A swarm of orcs surrounded him, mercilessly beating him with their fists and boots. Given the state he was in, he would not survive much longer if they continued their cruel treatment.

"No! Legolas!"

"Shut up, maggot!"

A blow from one of the orcs holding Estel folded him over and knocked the air from his lungs. He coughed heavily before he could get his breath back. He still pulled uselessly against his captors, wanting to help the elf they were playing with. He felt white hot rage snap powerfully within him. Legolas had not even done anything to deserve this abuse. The only reason the orcs were doing this was for spite, a sign that they owned him.

A sudden cry of pain echoed through the air, causing Estel's heart to lurch. He screamed at the orcs clutching his arms and kicked out at them, receiving only blows back as a reward. Estel fell to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks and his voice raised in Elvish curses. The commotion around Legolas ceased and they glanced around at the boy struggling on the ground with two orcs. They lifted the beaten elf and threw him aside, their fun with him forgotten. They went to help with the boy.

Had Legolas been conscious, he would have probably done something to stop Estel's beatings, but he was not. The boy was thrown down beside the elf as the sky began to be dotted by the stars and the moon was rising. He huddled in a still ball for a moment, then crawled to the elf's side. Legolas' breathing was ragged and shallow, his nearly healed cuts from the whip were reopened from the beating he had just taken. His blue glow was fading in the coming darkness. Estel had a bloody nose, but he forgot all about it as he scanned Legolas' condition. The boy curled against the elven prince's side and rested his head against his friend's chest, hearing the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

So wrong. Everything had gone so wrong, ever since they had been captured by the orcs. They were beaten and treated like slaves, attached to chains. Estel tried to keep hope, but it was so hard to do when every odd was against you and the very moon seemed to curse your existence. Estel felt the hope he had slipping away from him as he watched Legolas' glow become dimmer, his life ebbing away right beneath Estel's hands. The boy began to weep at everything that had happened, the situation they were in, the fact that they were hurting and scared and wanted to be free from this hell. He wept openly, not caring anymore whether the orcs heard or not. He did not care if they beat him, or if he lived. He actually wanted to die, something he had never before wished upon himself. Woe is one who is so young and innocent and already wishing to die so early in their existence, with so many things they had not done or seen or experienced, and having their wishes for life torn brutally away by another cruel hand. Woe on so many levels.

Estel felt the body beneath him stir. He silenced his weeping and looked up to see Legolas' eyes open, the blue faded and clouded over in pain. He moaned softly and blinked, trying to retrieve all of his awareness. He looked down at the boy and smiled faintly in encouragement.

"Are you alright?" Estel asked, sitting up slightly. Legolas took a deep breath and fought to keep the pain from his expression. He could not lie to the boy; he had never done it before and would not start now.

"I'm not so sure, Estel," he mumbled quietly, gazing up at the stars. "I don't think I am going to live through this." Estel grabbed his hand and inched forward, his silver eyes wide.

"No, Legolas," he whispered. "You will live. We both will. I know it." Legolas closed his eyes and smiled softly. He tightened the hold he had on the boy's hand.

"Estel," he murmured. "'Hope' is the perfect name for you. But this time my spirit is failing me, Estel. I cannot keep going on like this." It was the truth. Elves were never meant to live in this sort of condition. They were beings of light, of life. They could die if their souls were put under too much strain, and the elven prince felt that he could take no more. The abuse and darkness Legolas was dealing with was fatally weakening him. Estel felt tears building in his eyes. He shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "You cannot leave me."

"Oh, Estel, I will never leave you, as long as you keep me in your heart," Legolas said quietly, stroking the boy's cheek with the back of his fingers.

"But you promised that we would go either way together," Estel mumbled, his breath hitching. "You promised me." Legolas felt tears spring in his own eyes and struggled to sit up. He enfolded the weeping boy tightly in his arms and rested his head on top of Estel's own, rocking them slowly back and forth.

"I do not break promises often, Estel," Legolas whispered. "I do not want to break one now, especially to you. Yet I have no choice. You are so young, Estel, much too young to be joining your ancestors. It is not your time to fly and will not be for a while. I have led a good life, but you have not yet had the chance to. Please do not follow me if I choose to fly. Stay grounded and live your life. Though I may not be able to keep my first promise, I am able to make another." Legolas pulled Estel away from him and gazed into the glistening silver eyes.

"Across seas or plains, through life and death, past all troubles and problems, we will always be friends," the elf murmured, brushing away Estel's tears. "Our hearts are bound as one and nothing, not even the great hand of death, may break them apart. We can never be separated." Estel nodded in agreement and fell into Legolas' arms again, wanting to be close in what his friend thought were his last moments.

The two sat huddled together beneath the stars, bound in chains and at the heart. They wept openly, their tears illuminated by the light of the moon. After a few moments Legolas began humming softly, a tune he had known since childhood and one his mother used to sing to him when he could not get to sleep at night. It was the small lullaby she had sang to him the night she was killed, her last gift to her son before flying. Legolas gave the tune willingly to the boy in his arms, wanting to give the same gift his mother had given to him. He did not sing it openly; it was for Estel's ears only and would always be.

_I swear to you, new one, young one,_

_That you will never be alone,_

_I promise to you, small one, timid one,_

_Through our deep bond and love sewn._

_Never will tears be shed,_

_Always there will be light,_

_From the stars and moon its glow shall be fed,_

_To stay eternally bright._

_So remember this, tired one, worn one,_

_That wherever you may go,_

_My spirit will be with you, lovely one, little one,_

_And I will always love you so._

The young boy remembered the night he had wondered how beautiful it would sound if the elf prince were to sing. He knew now that elven voices, even those abused by pain and torn from roaring curses, were like no other. Legolas' song seemed to swirl mystically in the air, surrounding Estel in a warm and comforting mist. He closed his eyes as the lilting voice of his elven friend landed softly upon his ears. He was slightly disappointed when Legolas ended the tune, but the elf could go on no longer.

Legolas kissed Estel on the brow before lying down again, his strength sapped and his wounds aching. Estel lay down next to him, wanting to be a comfort for what they both knew would probably be their last chance to speak to each other. He rested his head on the elf's chest, hearing the once strong heartbeat begin to slow and fade as Legolas' life and light left him. Tears fell from his eyes again, but he did not wipe them away nor had the heart to. He gripped the prince's slender hand in his own tightly.

"I don't want you to leave, Legolas," Estel whispered. "I want to be with you."

"Please stay, Estel," the elf breathed, closing his eyes as their brightness dimmed. "You have a family that loves you and wants you here still. I will be happy when I go. I will be at peace. Please stay." Legolas fell into unconsciousness, still gradually fading away. His light was everything but gone and he was growing cold. Estel still held his hand, tears shining on his cheeks and his body shaking with hard sobs that he thought would never cease. This heartache was new to him and he found he hated its feeling.

"I want to come with you, Legolas," Estel whispered, brushing a lock of golden hair away from the elf's peaceful face. "You cannot leave me here alone. I cannot be alone in this place." He huddled protectively over Legolas' form, whispering pleas in Elvish that his friend could not hear. The sound of the orcs' laughter echoed painfully around him. He felt helpless as he was forced to watch Legolas, the dear friend he had made and come to love, slip silently away beneath him. He could not stand being so incompetent.

"_Namarie_, Legolas," Estel whispered in Elvish. "Farewell."

The laughing of the orcs behind him grew in volume. Estel sat up when he realized that they were not laughing anymore; they were screaming. The boy whirled around to see elven arrows fly from the forest behind him, piercing and felling many of the evil creatures, most of whom still did not know what was happening. Estel knelt over his friend's form and watched as steeds raced from the woods, carrying elven warriors shooting down at the dark beings that scuttled around their mounts. The boy tried to see if he recognized any of the elves, yet it was much too dark.

The orc army squalled and raised their weapons, rushing to meet the sudden attack that had disturbed their evening. There was the sound of bows singing farewell to their released arrows and clanging steel. Estel's ears rang at the clamor and was too busy watching the battle to see or hear the form creep up behind him and reach out.

He shouted in alarm as strong, clawed hands gripped his forearms, dragging him backwards. He looked back to see Xin hooking another hand around his waist and grunting as an arrow wound in his shoulder protested. Immediately Estel shouted and fought against the being that had a hold on him, kicking and punching out at the orc. He received blows back as punishment and hardly hit the orc commander at all, but he fought still, calling out to the elves for help. None could hear him over the din of the battle, all save one.

King Thranduil had mounted Khílya when they had entered the battle. She was the most willing to fight and she would bear him. While the rider upon her back swung a rapier at the dark swarm, she kicked out at their chests and legs, disabling them temporarily so the elves could take the opening and slay them. Thranduil had just sliced a orc with his thin sword when he heard a slight indecipherable mewling to his left.

Uttering a quick word of Elvish to Khílya, Thranduil spun around to see a large orc dragging off a struggling small form. Cries for help came from the being, and Thranduil recognized the voice to be that of Estel, Elrond's foster son. The next thing the elven king saw was the collapsed form lying on the ground at Estel's kicking feet, emanating a fading blue glow. Thranduil's heart lurched as he realized that the form lying on the ground was his son. He searched for an opening to reach the two boys, but he was surrounded by a large group of orcs.

Looking around quickly, Thranduil saw that the twins and Arwen were fighting off the army from the backs of their mounts, too preoccupied at the moment to be of much help. Slaying another one of the evil creatures around him, Thranduil scanned the dark mass for Elrond. He saw the elven lord hacking away at the orcs around his dapple-gray steed, struggling to clear them away.

"Elrond!" Thranduil hollered, trying to be heard over the massive noise of the battle. The elven lord spun around to face the king, who pointed at the one orc and their two sons in need of help. "Help them! Quickly!" he shouted in Elvish, so the orcs would not be able to know their intentions. Elrond saw Legolas and Estel and his face paled when he saw the orc holding the boy tug out a dagger from its boot.

Elrond swung his steed around and charged through the line of orcs, pulling out his sword and goading his horse faster for the orc commander. Xin saw the elf coming closer upon the mount and he gave up trying to steal the boy. He held the dagger to Estel's throat just as the elven lord leaped from the horse's back. Elrond froze when he saw the point of the poisoned knife held to his son's jugular, his sword raised and flashing with black blood in the moonlight. Xin purred greedily and smiled at the elf's hesitation.

"This one means something to you, eh?" he drawled. He held Estel by the hair and tipped his head back, bringing the blade of the dagger dangerously close to the boy's undefended throat. Estel swallowed tightly, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Give him to me or you die, orc," Elrond growled lethally, eyeing the blade threatening his son's life closely.

"And I suppose that if I did give him to you, you would spare my life?" Xin laughed gutturally, shaking the boy he held tauntingly. "That isn't going to happen. Instead, I'm going to take the boy and sell him. He's healthy. He'll make a good slave." Xin laughed again, the evil sound grating upon Elrond's ears. The elven lord glanced over the orc's shoulder once, then nodded imperceptibly. He lunged forward and grabbed Estel by the shoulders just as a sharp rapier swung from the darkness, severing Xin's head from his shoulders in one swift motion. The body of the orc thumped heavily to the ground and King Thranduil stepped out into view, his thin sword blackened by the orc commander's blood.

"Ada!" Estel cried, falling into his father's arms. He allowed himself to be enfolded within Elrond's embrace. "I thought I would never see you again."

"So did I, young one," Elrond whispered into the boy's hair, letting tears flow freely from his eyes. He rocked them slowly back and forth in a comforting rhythm. "I was so worried for you." Estel buried his face into his father's tunic and his tears sank into the soft fabric.

"Legolas! What did they do to you, _ïon-nîn_?" an anguished voice cried from behind him. Estel spun around to see Thranduil crouched over the limp form of the elven prince, his hands hovering over the burned and bruised body as he wondered if touching his son would only cause more damage or pain.

"Ada, Legolas is dying, you must help him!" Estel cried, separating himself reluctantly from his father and crawling over to where Thranduil knelt by the prince's side. The king glanced up at the boy, his piercing gaze softened and tears shining in their gray depths. Estel was slightly surprised at the sudden show of emotion from the king and placed a small hand upon the royal's shoulder for comfort. Thranduil did not push away this minute sign of understanding. He accepted it silently and watched as Elrond checked the prince's vitals with two fingers against Legolas' neck.

All was silent for a few moments, then a hoarse whisper floated into the air, broken with grief.

"He's…gone."

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Am I evil or what? CLIFFIE MANIA! You'd be surprised at how many reviews I've gotten, saying: "Don't kill him, please!" or "Don't kill him or you'll have a very angry mob on your front door!" Bring it on! lol

Reviews, please! Let out your inner bitch!  



	16. Put the pitchforks down, please

A/N: Wow, a lot of people were about ready to attack me for the last chapter! Despite the near-death-experience, I thank all of you for the...um...lovely reviews. Just...just put down your pitchforks, please. Yes, that's it, nice and slow...

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Disclaimer: Tolkien's never getting Legolas back, cuz I killed him! Mwahahahahaha! He can have eberything else back, though.

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ch.16

Thranduil stared at the elven lord in disbelief, his heart pounding horribly in his ears. He felt tears gathering in his eyes and was not ashamed of them. Then he shook his head and gathered the younger elf in his arms.

"No. No, he's not. He can't be, he just can't!" He leaned over Legolas' still form, watching as the glow continued to fade. Yet he realized as he place a finger against the young elf's neck, a hand against his chest…there was no pulse. There was no heartbeat. And the glow granted to all elves began to die from the one held in his arms, continuing to fade.

"Legolas. Legolas, no…" Thranduil's pleas gasped from his tight throat, the tears spilling over his eyelids. He bent over his son's form, his frame shaking with heavy sobs. He felt his heart being pierced by the cruel needle of grief. He held the still body close to his chest, wishing to give his own life to save Legolas'.

"A-Ada…" Estel choked, watching the king's sorrow and crawling slowly into the arms of the elven lord. Tears were running down his cheeks as well, trailing over the tracks of the old, but with a new purpose. These tears were brought from heart-banging grief for a dear friend lost forever, for the pity of a mourning father. The boy buried his face into Elrond's robe to hide the sight of Thranduil's tears, though his own stung his eyes.

"He was not meant…to fly before me…" Thranduil whispered into Legolas' golden hair. "He was…not…" The king rocked slightly, shaking with new sobs. _Forgive me_, _my Greenleaf_, he thought. _I never was able to show you real paternal love, I was never able to show you I care. I'm so sorry this had to happen, especially to you. I'm so sorry._

Elrond watched the king silently, his brain spurring for ideas on what to be done. He knew that there had to be a way to save the prince. There had to be. Elves had died before in front of him, but never like this, never at the end of so much suffering. He felt that he had to do something…

Elrond glanced at the ring on his forefinger. The practice had not been done in centuries, yet it seemed to be the only way.

Pulling Estel quickly from his lap, he leaned forward and took Legolas' arm. Thranduil sat up and looked horrified for a moment, yet the king saw grim determination shining the elven lord's eyes and kept silent as his son was placed gently on the ground. Elrond leaned over the prince, closing his eyes and resting their foreheads together, with his hands on either side of Legolas' face.

Without a second thought, Elrond reached for the rare power in the ring on his finger, going from there to draw the power from the moon. He garnered it together and reached into Legolas' consciousness, holding onto the power like a lifeline, prodding through the darkness in the younger elf's mind. He at last found Legolas' soul; it was hovering between existence and death, wanting to stay as long as his body did not betray him. With every ounce of power he possessed, Elrond called out mentally.

_Legolas. Come back to the light. Now, Legolas, we need you here. Do not leave Estel and your father in grief. Come back to us. _

The small light that was Legolas flickered briefly, growing stronger as Elrond fed him some of the power he had collected from the moon. Legolas' soul began to grow brighter, it was beginning to return as the elven lord gradually passed strength into his form and spirit. Legolas' heart gave a feeble flutter, but its beat did not continue. Elrond spurred it again, and this time, its rhythm resumed.

Thranduil watched in amazement as the blue glow that had died returned to encase itself around Legolas' still form. The body Elrond was leaned over gave a sudden flinch, and Legolas gasped loudly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed. Only when the young elf's breathing slowed did Lord Ventai sit back up, his eyes opening wearily.

"H-how…?" Thranduil was already reaching for his son, relieved beyond what he had ever felt before. Elrond backed away.

"Watch over him. I will get my steed and we will take them back to the house." Elrond stood and went to speak with his elven children, who were waiting patiently amidst a sea of collapsed orc bodies, cleaning their blades of the black blood or collecting their strewn arrows. He acted as if he had not just saved the life of another, something that confused and baffled the king.

Thranduil watched the elven lord go before turning his gaze back to his son. He gathered the younger elf in his arms and placed his cheek atop Legolas' crown, rocking him slowly as he had done centuries before, when the prince was but a mere elfling. He whispered soothing Elvish words, as well as prayers of thanks to the gods, to the unconscious figure in his grasp. Estel waited silently by his side, not wanting to be an intrusion.

The king lifted his head and gazed down at Legolas as the prince began to stir, moaning at the stress of his injuries and opening clouded eyes to gaze at the face above him in confusion.

"A-Adar?" he rasped, analyzing the position he was in and whom he was with. He tried to sit up and break away from his father's grasp. Thranduil pulled him tighter to his chest, feeling the tenseness in Legolas' muscles.

"Please don't back away from me," he whispered into his son's hair. "I thought I had lost you, _ïon-nîn_. You had me frightened." _More than you would ever know_.

"I…I'm sorry," Legolas whispered, relaxing into his father's protective embrace and resting his head on the king's shoulder. Thranduil shook his head.

"Don't blame yourself for what has happened," the king said softly, tears building and threatening to spill. "It is my fault in more ways than one. So many things are my fault." Legolas blinked in confusion as he felt unconsciousness coming to him.

"For what do you fault yourself, Ada?" he asked quietly. He saw tears leave the king's closed eyes and his heart skipped a beat. He reached weakly up and gently brushed them from his father's cheeks.

"There are so many things, _ïon-nîn_," Thranduil whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "So many things that I must tell you later, when you are well again." Legolas nodded and closed his eyes, his awareness fleeing him. He went limp in Thranduil's arms. The king held him closer, bending over his son's still form. A snuffle sounded from his right and a light tan muzzle appeared over his shoulder, brushing the top of Legolas' head. Thranduil smiled softly and leaned back to give the mare a better view of her elf.

Khílya nickered in concern and lightly nudged the unconscious elf with her nose, wondering whether he was all right or not.

"He merely sleeps, Khílya," Thranduil whispered to the mare in Elvish. He raised a hand to pat her velvety nose. "He is fine." Khílya whinnied and lay down next to the king to keep a proper watch on her elf, lying her head on Thranduil's knee, by Legolas' hand. Her brown eyes eyed the peaceful face of the one she cared deeply for.

"Thranduil," Elrond called, striding up with his steed behind him. "We are ready to move on." The king nodded and allowed Legolas to be taken from his arms and placed on the back of Elrond's steed, the elven lord's arm curled around the prince's shoulders to keep him steady. The king lifted Estel up behind his father and mounted Khílya, following the dapple-gray that carried the prince into the forest, back to Elrond's home.

_-------------------------_

_(See? I couldn't really kill him. ;oD) _

"King Thranduil, please, you need rest, especially after tonight," Elrond insisted, pausing in the doorway. Thranduil was seated beside Legolas' bed, watching the prone form carefully. He shook his head.

"Nay, Elrond," he whispered. "I would like to be here when he wakes." The elven lord opened his mouth, about to protest again, but there came a tug at his robes. He looked down to see Estel, bleary eyed and shivering with a thin blanket around his shoulders. The wounds from the whip had been treated and bandages circled his thin torso with healing salves underneath.

"Estel, you should be in bed," Elrond said gently, kneeling down next to the boy. "You are in no condition to be walking around like this."

"I…I wanted you to help me go to sleep," Estel whispered. The elven lord's heart wrenched. Estel hadn't asked Elrond to help him sleep since two months after his parents had been killed. What had those orcs done to him to make him so frightened?

"Of course, Estel," he replied softly, leaning down to scoop the boy into his arms. He left Legolas' room, Thranduil still sitting stubbornly within it, and carried his human son to his own room. The covers were thrown back on the bed, and Elrond placed the small bundle in his arms atop the sheets, pulling the comforter back up and straightening them over Estel's body. The boy cuddled down in their warmth. Elrond sat down on the side of the bed.

"What is bothering you, _ïon-nîn_?" Elrond whispered soothingly. Estel gazed up at the elven lord with large silver eyes.

"A bad dream," he replied shortly. "About…"

"The orcs?" Elrond finished gently. He was not surprised. It was only three hours after he and his elven children had rescued both the human child and the prince. They had been cared for, Legolas unconscious and Estel whimpering with each medicinal herb or salve being applied. The young elf prince had remained sleeping since they had brought him in. Estel had gotten an hour and a half worth of sleep, but he kept seeing the orcs, their whip and laughing taunts and jeers, Legolas hanging limply in his bonds, the abuse and pain. The child had been through too much stress in only a few nights. It would take some time before he recovered both physically and mentally.

"Yes," Estel answered quietly, tears appearing in his large eyes. "They kept hurting me. They wouldn't stop when I begged them to. Then…they hurt Legolas…they left him tied to the tree the whole night. They wouldn't let him down. Ada, I don't want you to go tonight, can you stay here with me?"

"Yes, young one," Elrond murmured. "Of course. How could I leave you alone now?" Estel nodded and closed his eyes, snuggling down into the covers.

"Thank you, Ada," he mumbled as sleep took him. Elrond smiled and kissed the boy's brow.

"Your welcome, _ïon-nîn_," he whispered softly. He sat back and watched the child sleep for a moment before turning his gaze outside, to the stars that glittered there. He watched as the moon steadily rose over the forest, casting its glow over the trees.

Tonight had been close. They had almost lost both Estel and Legolas tonight to the orcs. To think that they were even this close to Rivendell was disturbing. It was angering to know that they had kidnapped his son, the child he had come to love over these months as well as Legolas, one who had had enough darkness and angst in his life and treated them this way. Elrond wished he could kill the whole army again with his bare hands. The marks he had cleaned on both Legolas' and Estel's bodies were grievous and Elrond had felt like screaming in rage when he had seen them. Legolas' elven healing abilities would soon absorb the scars that had been made on him, but Estel was human and he would possess those ugly slices the rest of his life. He was too young to be living with such marks, much too young to have received them. His innocence had been ripped away by the orc army, his fears disturbed.

Legolas was probably in no better shape. The night his mother had been killed by orcs had locked him away. He had been young then too, so young. The fact that he had witnessed such horrors as that when he was only an elfling was sorrowful, but the fact that he had had to go through it again and watch another generation suffer what he had endured was heartbreaking. Elrond wondered what had truly happened and would ask the prince when he awoke.

Elrond brushed a lock of dark, curly hair away from Estel's face. He would have to stay with his son until tomorrow morning, and even then the boy would refuse to leave his side.

---------------------

Legolas turned his head atop his pillow, cognizance returning to him. He opened cloudy blue eyes to verify where he was. He blinked as he saw a blurry dark form sitting beside his bed, the shoulders slumped and head bowed. He forced everything to come into focus and recognized the figure beside him. He struggled to sit up, moving slowly so as not to aggravate his wounds.

"Ada?" he whispered, his voice rasping from a dry throat. Thranduil's head snapped up and his gray eyes fixed onto his son. He leaned forward, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes with one hand.

"How do you feel, Legolas?" he asked urgently. The prince tried to sit up again. The king looped an arm around his back and helped him into a sitting position, settling the younger elf onto the pillows propped against the headboard behind him.

"I'm sore everywhere," Legolas replied quietly. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?" Thranduil repeated, raising his fair eyebrows. "Legolas, you were taken by an orc army and beaten to near death and you ask me why I am here?" A small smile flickered over the king's face. The prince shook his head.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "That was a foolish question." Thranduil's faint smile disappeared and he looked away, down at the floor.

"Not unnecessarily so," he said softly. "In truth, I am the one who should be sorry, Legolas." He turned his gaze back to his son, who cocked his head in confusion and stared at his father questioningly. Thranduil took the prince's slender hand in his own for comfort. Legolas was slightly surprised at his father's open need for consolation, but he hid it well and waited for the king to speak.

"I have not been what you needed," Thranduil whispered. "I have been your king, your mentor, but one thing I needed to be most of all was your father. I never was. I closed myself off from you when you lacked someone to take comfort in and left you alone. I am sorry, _ïon-nîn_. I have been a horrible father to you and I should not have been. When Khílya died, she probably left thinking that I would take well care of you, that I would be here for you, but I let her down. I let you down, and that is something I can never forgive myself for. You are all I have, Legolas, and I have taken you for granted. I am sorry it took me so long to realize that you are what I truly care for. Not my kingdom or my realm…if I had a choice between you or Frosted Forest we would probably be sleeping out together on a treeless plain beneath the stars." Legolas stayed silent throughout Thranduil's whole confession, his hand held in his father's. He felt that his fondest wish had suddenly and unexpectedly been granted.

"I…I thought that…you…" Legolas stammered, hardly being able to get the words from his mouth. He knew what he wanted to say, it was something he had believed for centuries, and now it was suddenly proven wrong.

"What?" Thranduil asked softly, leaning forward slightly. Legolas closed his eyes for a long moment and when he opened them again, the king could see glistening tears swimming above the dazzling blue he had inherited from his mother.

"I thought you had hated me," Legolas whispered, bowing his head. Thranduil's eyes grew wide.

"How could you think such a thing, _ïon-nîn_?" he asked quietly. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Because…it was my fault Nana died," Legolas whispered. The tears were freed from his eyes and Thranduil could see them falling to the bedsheet. "I thought you hated me because you blamed me for her death." The king's normally stoic heart tugged painfully within his breast. How long had the prince had these ideas? Since the night Khílya had fallen? Why had not Thranduil corrected them? The king realized just how troubled and agonized Legolas' heart and mind was.

"Oh, Legolas, is this what you have been believing all of these years?" Thranduil asked quietly, hooking a finger beneath the prince's chin and tilting the tear soaked face upward. He brushed the tears away gently.

"Aye," Legolas whispered softly, his voice dripping with emotion. He was near to having the carefully built walls of his reserve collapse. Thranduil could see the exterior of his son's boxed in emotions crumbling and quickly pulled the younger elf into a tight embrace. Legolas was again surprised at his father's sudden open show of tenderness, but his shock was swiftly forgotten as the walls toppled from the strain of sorrow behind them and immersed him in waves of rocking anguish. Legolas fell lax fully in Thranduil's arms, his body trembling from the hard sobs that shook his lithe frame. The king held his only child tightly in his arms and whispered soothing Elvish words in the prince's ear.

"I _never_ blamed you, Legolas," he said softly, stroking his son's golden hair gently. "I never hated you. I'm sorry I stayed distant enough for you to believe such things. Forgive me, _ïon-nîn_, forgive me though I do not deserve it. Everything is my fault."

"Please…don't blame yourself, Adar," Legolas whispered, his face buried in his father's chest. "The last thing I want is for you to feel guilty about this."

"It is rightfully mine, Legolas," Thranduil whispered into his son's hair. "You have bore it for much too long when I should have taken the load of it off your shoulders. If I had not let us become so distant with each other I would have had it long ago and you would not have had to suffer. It belongs to me."

"Ada…"

"Do not argue with me, Legolas," Thranduil said gently, yet firmly. "Especially in the state you are in. What did the orcs do to you, _ïon-nîn_? Did they burn you?" He pulled the younger elf away from him, his hands on Legolas' shoulders. His eyes grazed over the many wounds his son had suffered by the hands of the vulgar creatures. Legolas looked away. He could feel his father's gaze on him.

"They burned me with fire, yes," Legolas whispered. "They also had a whip and other tools. They gave me poison as well. Wyvern Milk." Thranduil winced. He knew what the vile liquid was. He had had a taste of it long ago and knew how painful it was.

"But the worst thing was when they beat Estel," Legolas whispered, his eyes tearing at the horrid memories. "They forced me to watch. Ada, it was horrible. Why should one so young be treated in such a cruel way? What justifies that? I wanted to stop it, I wanted to so badly…" Legolas' fists curled as he recalled the blind rage he had been in when he heard the cries coming from the small boy.

"That is what I thought when I rescued you those many years ago," Thranduil whispered, gently brushing golden locks away from his son's face. "You were so young and helpless, and the way they had treated you…murdered your mother right in front of you…I was so angry with those horrid creatures…I wanted to bring them back to life simply so I could kill them all with my bare hands."

"That is not all they did, Ada," the prince whispered. The king inched closer to his son for comfort and gazed at the downcast face.

"What did they do to you?" he asked softly.

"They…forced me to call one of them…master," he spat the last word like a curse unfit to be uttered by any tongue. "I could not take any more of the pain, Ada, I fell apart. I called that thing master. It was what they wanted, and I gave it to them. I was so weak and probably still am…"

"Do not say that," Thranduil said firmly, taking his son's shoulders and turning the younger elf to face him. "You are not weak, Legolas. You lived through that horrible ordeal so many years ago, when most elves older than even me would normally die, and you lived through this one as well. That is not weakness, Legolas, it is anything but. You are one of the strongest beings I know and my idea of strength is hard to meet."

"_Hannon le_, Adar," Legolas whispered, raising his gaze to the king's. Thranduil smiled softly and tugged his son into another embrace. Legolas fell willingly into it, resting his head on his father's slender shoulder and allowing himself to be rocked gently in the king's arms. It had been so long since Thranduil had ever held him as such and Legolas found that a bone-aching need had been quenched. He fell slowly into sleep in his father's arms. Thranduil kissed his son on the brow before laying the prince back down on his bed, pulling the covers up.

"Rest well, my Greenleaf," he whispered softly.

--------------------------

See? He's alive. I couldn't seriously kill him off. What do you think I am? Heartless? Nope, he lives. Reviews please! (We're almost at the the end!) :oD


	17. The evil return of this bulk of thing

Oh my God it's...it's ME. Returning. With the rest of...of THIS.

It's been so long since I've written this story that it now causes me physical pain to look at it. No, really. It's like a knife stabbing me between the ribs, it hurts so bad. I hate this story.

But upon randomly contemplating (weird, huh?), I figured it was unfair to leave this unfinished when so many people had enjoyed it, so I decided to post the last three chapters. Ugh, this story.

I'll probably be dabbling in JTHM fanfiction from now on, or something equally, um, I dunno, different. Continue on to this...thing here.

* * *

The next morning's sun found two elves sitting in Prince Legolas' sleeping chamber, one sitting cross-legged on the bed supporting a food tray on his knees while the other sat in a chair. They were highly enjoying their time together as they had not for a long while, and the sun had an excellent memory. The balcony door was wide open to allow the soft breeze of summer to enter, and the thin gossamer curtains danced merrily with the wind. Light laughter could be heard from within the chamber.

"I guess it is too late to get to the Vénos in time," Legolas mused, taking a bite out of his bread. "If you do not send a letter to Calen soon he'll use his imagination to come up with some story about our grievous deaths. I bet I would be the one who gets eaten by some animal, and you'd be the one who falls from a cliff." Thranduil chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I'm sure your right," he replied. "We have been gone a long while. The kingdom will go into panic if we do not return soon, and Calen would only encourage it."

"Brilliant leaving him in charge, Ada," Legolas jabbed, rolling his eyes.

"You hush and eat before I do it for you," Thranduil said in mock fatherly firmness, fixing his son with one of his glares.

"Yes sir," Legolas replied, taking another bite of his bread. "By the way, how were my centií when you left?" The king ripped off his own piece from his son's large hunk of bread and glanced up.

"Lalaith and Fehinte are doing great," he replied, eating his chunk of bread. "You have been gone a while; they are starting to miss you. You need to meet your new grandbaby centií."

"What?" Legolas asked, almost choking on his food. His eating now halted, he looked up in surprise at his father. "Lalaith has delivered a calf? When did this happen?"

"A day before I left to come here," Thranduil said, gesturing for his son to eat. The prince had not been fed during his time with the orcs, equaling to about three days without food or water. He wanted to make sure the young elf gained the nutrition he had lost during those days. "It was slightly premature, but you have a brand new male centií waiting for a name and his grandfather at home."

"Is he healthy?" Legolas asked, continuing to eat at his father's urgings.

"From what I saw. He was running about with his mother and father after a few hours. Lalaith and Fehinte make excellent parents."

"I had not realized I had been gone so long. I did not even know Lalaith was expecting."

"It is hard to tell if a centií is pregnant," Thranduil smiled. "I wonder why."

"Hush, Ada," Legolas said, grinning and taking another bite of his bread. "That is my centií you are talking about and I will not have my children insulted. Speaking of my children, has Guithar caused any recent trouble?" Thranduil groaned in a very undignified manner and rolled his eyes.

"Please, that raccoon of yours always has to cause trouble when you are not there to stop him. He broke the vase that Calen had hand-painted. Calen was not very happy, I can tell you that. Before he could serve Guithar as a side dish in dinner, I took him and locked him in your room. Knowing that overgrown rat, he'll find a way out." Legolas chuckled and shook his head. Thranduil knew how fond of that raccoon his son was. That was the only thing keeping him from tossing the creature back into the forests where the prince had found him to nurse back to health.

"Well, then I guess I will have to give him a firm talking-to," Legolas joked, brushing the crumbs from his hands and placing the food tray on the side table.

"I know you almost as well as that rat of yours to assure myself that you will do no such thing," Thranduil said. "You will praise Guithar, more like." Legolas feigned innocence and gazed at his father with large blue eyes.

"It was not my fault that vase was so horrid," he said. "Calen can balance wages and help you run the kingdom, but he cannot paint." Thranduil laughed and nodded.

"Yes, you are right about that," he replied. "To tell you the truth, I even said a good few words to the rat before I threw him into your bedroom and locked the door." Legolas smiled.

"You see? He did us all a favor then," he said, settling back onto his pillows. "He is good for something and is not as bad as you so claim."

"Well, he's good at melting away your anger by simply looking at you innocently, I'll give him that," the king muttered. "The guilty ones are always armed with adorable eyes as a defense in case of danger." At those words Legolas turned large blue eyes to his father, raising his eyebrows and playing the very part of innocence. Thranduil laughed.

"Exactly what I mean," he jabbed. "You are one of those little deceivers." The prince put a hand over his heart as if he were astonished to be accused of such a thing.

"Why, Ada," he murmured. "What did I ever do to mark myself as mischievous?"

"Aside from the time you once hid your mother's favorite jeweled headdress?" Thranduil asked, scanning his memories. "Or the time you allowed Guithar to relieve himself in my boots? Or what about the time you led one of your centií into the palace and placed it in Calen's room?" Legolas laughed at the memory.

"His eyes were huge when he saw what lay behind that door!" he laughed. "He looked ready to faint when he saw Lalaith sitting on his bed! That was a good one, you have to admit."

"I had to turn away to hide my smile," Thranduil admitted. "That was clever."

"I thought so," Legolas said. "That is, of course, until Naneth scolded me."

"She was always firm about your pets coming in contact with Calen," Thranduil mused. "He did not like animals coming into his room or his things."

"That's why I did it," Legolas confessed. "As well as the fact that he had forced me to scrub the floors after catching me with a bow and arrow in the house."

"You were taking aim at his vase!" Thranduil laughed. "Of course he would stop you."

"Well, now it's gone," Legolas sighed. "Too bad I could not have done it myself. I would have liked to." Thranduil shook his head and was ready to respond when a small voice shouted from the doorway.

"Legolas!"

Aragorn raced into the room and bounded onto the bed, jostling the covers. He wrapped the elf prince tightly in his thin arms.

"Estel, what are you doing galloping around the place like this?" Legolas asked. 'Estel' was now what Legolas called the young boy. Dev's elven family was starting to pick up the habit. "You are still healing."

"It doesn't hurt," the boy replied, releasing his friend and sitting back. The prince caught the small grimace of pain that flickered across the young one's features before disappearing, but Legolas knew he had seen it.

"Estel, you need to be resting, not sprinting," the elf said. "You are in pain and I can see it. Stop running around or you'll cause yourself more damage."

"Alright," Aragorn sighed. "Can I rest with you, then?"

"Of course," Legolas smiled. "Why don't you get some parchment and a pen and I'll teach you how to draw a raccoon? Remember not to run." The boy's face brightened and he slid from the bed, walking to the door and opening it. As soon as the wooden door snapped shut, the keen hearing of the elves distinctly heard the soft patter of running feet down the hall.

"Estel!" Legolas called. "Stop running!" Thranduil smiled and chuckled quietly.

"He's exactly like you were when you were an elfling," he mused. "Mischievous, disobeying, so innocent in every way…or so you seemed." Thranduil saw his own fatherly protectiveness reflected in his son as the prince chided the young boy and the king realized just how grown Legolas was.

"Now I have to suffer," Legolas rolled his light blue eyes to the ceiling.

"No, Elrond has to suffer," Thranduil corrected. "You are merely temporary, _ïon-nîn_." Aragorn came quickly back, his running stopping just outside the door, where he opened it and walked calmly in. The only signs that gave away his sprint were his flushed cheeks and slightly hard breathing.

"I told you not to run, Estel," Legolas raised his eyebrows at the boy, who climbed onto the bed. Aragorn gazed innocuously at his elven friend with large silver eyes. Thranduil chuckled.

"See? Guilty one always have the look of innocence for defense," he confirmed.

"But I was not running, Legolas," Estel muttered. Legolas smiled and ruffled the unkempt, curly locks.

"Sure, Estel," he mumbled, leaning over. "Would you like to draw a raccoon or what?" Thranduil leaned in to give some tips as Aragorn sketched a simple outline of a raccoon with the help of the two elven royals.

* * *

Estel crept from his room silently, trying to open the door on silent hinges. It creaked slightly and he jumped, listening for any movement from the other rooms, but the place was still sound asleep. Aragorn padded quietly down the hall and made his way to Legolas' room. He had had another night terror about the orcs. He normally would have gone to Elrond, but he had bothered the elven lord enough times during the past couple of days. And Legolas was the only other one who would really truly understand the horrors of the orcs, for he was the only other one who had experienced it also.

Aragorn pushed the door open. It slid around in a wide arc and thumped quietly against the wall. Estel located Legolas' bed and snuck to its side, placing his lit candle on the table. Legolas was deep in sleep, his eyes open in the manner of elves, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he took. Aragorn hated to bother the prince. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should go get Elrond instead. Legolas seemed so peaceful and the boy did not want to be a nuisance. He turned slowly around and grabbed his candle, but his hand bumped against a bowl, which chinked softly against another plate. It was a small noise, but a small noise was all it took to wake an elf.

"Estel?"

Aragorn turned back around to face Legolas, who was raised up on his elbows, blinking weariness from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, looking down. "I…I did not mean to wake you."

"What are you doing here, young one?" Legolas asked softly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. His long white nightshirt draped over his lithe frame and reached past his knees. "Is something wrong?" He knelt down in front of the bashful child, trying to meet his eyes.

"I…I had a nightmare," Estel admitted. "I came in here to wake you up, but then I didn't want to disturb you. I didn't want to be an annoyance." Legolas smiled gently and curled a finger under the small boy's chin, tilting his head up.

"Estel, if you ever got frightened in the night and came to console in me, you would never be an annoyance," the elf whispered. "I could be in a coma and I would wake up to comfort you. Come." Legolas stood and lifted the boy with him, taking the candle and putting it on the bedside table before placing Aragorn on his bed. He sat down in front of his young friend and crossed his legs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. The boy nodded and inched slightly closer.

"I…keep seeing the orcs," he started hesitantly, beginning to fiddle with the bedsheet. "And you are still tied to the tree. And then it kept hitting you…I wanted it to stop but it didn't…and then…it…" His words were choked off and he struggled to continue. Tears built in his eyes. Too many had Legolas seen in the large eyes of this innocent child. Too many tears had touched his cheeks ever since the horrible day they were taken by the orcs. Too many, each a sign of grief and pain, had come from this young boy, who should not have had to deal with such things or emotions.

Legolas tugged Aragorn gently onto his lap. He held the boy close and rocked him slowly back and forth.

"It's all right, Estel," he murmured. "If you don't want to say any more you don't have to. Just know that I'm here." Aragorn buried his face into Legolas' shoulder and breathed in a forest-like scent he had smelled around the prince since his first day in Rivendell. The arms around him and the soothing presence of his elven friend calmed his fears and he relaxed in Legolas' embrace.

"It killed you, Legolas," he whispered softly, knowing that the keen elven ears would hear the rest of his story. The elf's arms around him tightened protectively. Legolas sighed slightly.

"That is what I thought," he murmured. "Things like that you should not have to experience, Estel. Those orcs drilled that into you painfully. I'm sorry this had to happen." Aragorn closed his eyes and shifted closer.

"It was not your fault," he mumbled tiredly. "Nothing was." Legolas smiled slightly as he felt the small form in his arms fully go lax as sleep took Aragorn away. He kissed the young boy's brow and laid him in the bed, pulling the covers up. He settled behind the small human, with Estel's back against his chest. Aragorn moved back against him and finally lay still, certain he was in a comforting presence. Legolas rested down next to his friend and allowed sleep take him.

Neither of them saw nor heard the person come through the door. The figure's eyes grazed around the room to rest on the elf and the human child settled comfortably on the bed. Elrond walked silently to the table and blew the candle on the bedside table out before his eyes came to rest on the two sleeping friends. He smiled gently. He loved his son with all of his heart, and he was beginning to love Legolas like another one of his own. The prince and boy had become close. Elrond knew what a blow it would make to Aragorn when Legolas had to leave for his own realm.

But that day would not come until later, so for now, Elrond let them sleep in peace.

* * *

I'll probably post the next tomorrow, unless I get bored. Blah. 


	18. Sappywappypoo

Oh, the sappiness of this chapter, it BURNZ.

Told you I might be back. I'm very bored.

Argh.

* * *

"There she goes!" Estel exclaimed, pointing at the water. The turtle swam gracefully away, following the current downstream. Lokni, her wounds fully healed and her stomach filled with leaves and grasses Dev had given her before he let her go, was finally free once more. Legolas stood behind the boy, his sharp eyes trailing the creature until it disappeared beneath a rock, the same one Aragorn had found her under.

"She's gone," Estel sighed, more out of happiness than sad.

"Yes," the elf beside him mused. "She is free once more."

"Maybe she'll find another turtle and they can have baby turtles," Dev said absently, taking Legolas' hand as the two of them made their way back to Elrond's home.

"That is possible," Legolas replied. "It is very likely."

"Will I be able to see them?" Estel asked.

"They will always probably live in that stream. I am almost sure that you will see them in time." They kept the small conversation aloft as they walked, as they had done on their first walk together. They both had changed and effected each other in different ways since that first day. Legolas' old heart had come out at some coaxing from Aragorn, and Estel had become wiser from the things Legolas had taught and shared with him. Both were a better person from when they had first met.

They continued on their way and were walking down the path that led to the entrance of Elrond's home, but a loud bang stopped them. Khílya suddenly charged from the stables, neighing as high as her lungs allowed her and racing swiftly in Legolas' direction. A shouting stable boy followed in her wake.

The elven prince laughed as his mare pranced happily around him in restless circles, nudging every inch of him to make sure he was surely fine. After her motherly inspection had ended, she nuzzled Legolas' neck with her nose and breathed in his scent, the scent that was uniquely his and one that she would always recognize. Her soft brown eyes spoke a silent thanks as they roved gently over his features.

"I love you too, Khílya," the elf murmured, wrapping his arms around her snout. She snuffled in answer and licked his neck.

"I'm so sorry, my lord," the stable boy gasped, skidding to a halt beside them and placing a hand on Khílya's side. "She got away from me."

"'Tis alright," Legolas said, withdrawing from his horse's embrace and stroking her neck fondly. "She's quite a handful sometimes." The young stable boy nodded, beginning to lead Khílya back to the stables. She went without protest, satisfied at least that her elf was safe and healthy. The elven prince watched her go for a moment before they continued on their way.

Legolas and Aragorn mounted the steps and entered the large room of the entrance hall and continued on down the corridor. They soon parted when they came to Legolas' door, for he was tired and explained that he needed to rest. Estel released the prince's hand and nodded, padding down the hallway to his father's room. Legolas watched the young one go before he entered his own chambers.

Aragorn opened the door to Elrond's office, closing the door behind him. He found the elven lord and king seated on the balcony, speaking lightly with each other about different terms.

"Estel," Elrond said, noticing the boy coming through the door. He held out a hand, offering for the little one to sit upon his lap. Aragorn crawled into his father's lap and cuddled in Elrond's arms. He played with a lock of the elven lord's hair as he normally did.

"Where's the twins and Arwen?" he asked.

"Out racing each other at the moment," Elrond replied. "Arwen always wins though, I don't know why the twins continue trying to beat her." Aragorn was content to sit on his father's lap, watching the forest below them as the two adults spoke with one another. He did not listen much to their conversation, but his ears perked at one question.

"When are you planning on leaving?" Elrond asked curiously. Thranduil tipped his head from side to side.

"Tonight," he replied at last. "Legolas and I decided on the time."

"Tonight?" Estel asked, turning in his seat to stare at the king. "You're leaving tonight?" Thranduil nodded. "And Legolas knew about this?" Again the king nodded. Aragorn leaped from Elrond's lap and raced from the room. Elrond and Thranduil winced slightly as the door slammed behind the boy and raised their eyebrows, glancing in confusion at one another.

Aragorn sprinted down the hall and opened Legolas' door, bursting through. He bolted to the bed, where the elf was resting, and leaped into the air, landing right on Legolas' stomach. The prince awoke abruptly with a strangled cough. He gazed down at the boy seated on his stomach in bewilderment.

"And why, might I ask, are you waking me in this manner?" he questioned, raising a fair eyebrow. Aragorn crossed his arms and glared at the prince.

"You're leaving tonight?" he asked. Legolas rested his head against the pillow again, closing his eyes.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And when were you going to tell me this?!" Estel asked, leaning forward to stare the elf in the eye. Legolas opened one, the blue depths scanning Aragorn's silver.

"Would it have made a difference, Estel?" the elf prince countered the question with one of his own. "No matter what time I told you, you would have not wanted me to go, am I correct? You would have argued even if I had told you two days ago."

"Did you decide to leave two days ago?"

"No."

"Then when did you decide?"

"This morning. Could you get off of me? I'm having a little trouble breathing with a five year old boy sitting on my lungs." Estel glared at the elf, but complied and slid from his friend's stomach.

"You could have told me," he whimpered as Legolas sat up, stretching his slim frame gracefully. Legolas smiled and rubbed the spot on his chest Dev had been seated upon with his palm.

"Aye, I could, but I didn't," he said. "And the past is something that no being can change." The boy sat on the floor.

"You have to go?"

"Yes, Estel," Legolas said softly, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his distraught friend. "I have people at home in my realm that need their king, and their prince. As much as I want to, I cannot stay." Aragorn nodded and looked down at the floor. Legolas tipped his head back up to meet his eye, then drew forward until their foreheads touched, a common gesture they both used now for comfort.

"We have been talking of this issue for a long time, Estel," he whispered. "As far away as a thing may seem, it is never unavoidable. We will have to part ways for a time tonight, but it will only be better when we next meet."

"When will that be?" the boy asked quietly. Legolas smiled brilliantly.

"Only time will tell," he answered. He sat back and flicked his head in the direction of the door. "Come, let us find your siblings."

"Why?"

"To cause trouble and make this day memorable."

* * *

"I still can't believe you really poured scraps all over me and Elrond," Thranduil muttered, running a hand over his now clean golden hair, which had before been adorned with garbage from the kitchens. Legolas, beside him, smiled wickedly, a spark in his eye that had not been ignited for centuries.

"I still can't believe those words are actually a part of your polished vocabulary," the younger elf countered. "Where did you learn that Dwarfish, Ada?"

"Hush now," the king mumbled, moving off to speak to the assembled guards. Legolas shook his head and smiled to himself. He turned to the twins and Arwen beside him.

"Nice idea," he murmured. "It felt good to do that again." They smiled back.

"It felt good getting two rulers annoyed," Elladan replied.

"How long are you stuck scrubbing floors?" Legolas asked with a wide smile. He ducked an openhanded smack from Arwen.

"Two weeks," Elrohir answered. "Plus we have to baby-sit the young one."

"Have fun with him," the elven prince said as he retrieved Khílya from a guard. She nickered happily and rubbed her nose against his shoulder in greeting. He pat her nose tenderly before turning and kneeling down to scoop up the small child that had just called his name.

Estel wrapped his arms around the elf's neck tightly.

"I'll miss you, Legolas," he whispered.

"As I you, young one," the elven prince replied softly. Aragorn pulled away and held up a folded piece of parchment, handing it to his friend.

"It's for you," he said quietly. "You can open it later."

"Thank you, Aragorn," Legolas kissed the boy's brow. He held out his own hand. Estel opened his palm to receive a glittering brooch. It was in the shape of a silver leaf, the Greenleaf design. Legolas closed Dev's hand around the small token.

"I want you to have this," he whispered. "It's to remember me by." Estel sniffled and threw his arms around the elf's neck again.

"_Namarie_, Legolas," he whispered.

"Remember also what I said, Estel," Legolas replied softly. "There is no such thing as goodbye for two friends whose hearts are bound as one. We will meet again. I promise, _gwanur-nîn_, my brother."

"Don't break that promise," Aragorn said quietly, pulling away.

"I won't." Legolas smiled. "I promise."

"Legolas!" Thranduil called, now on the back of his own mount. The guards were gathered around his steed, waiting to head out.

"Coming Ada!" Legolas responded. He turned back to Aragorn and kissed his brow again. "We will meet again, young one."

He rose swiftly to his feet and leaped onto Khílya's back. The small band entered the forest as the stars began appearing, vanishing into the gathering darkness. Legolas rode alongside his father, the folded parchment clutched tightly in his hand. Thranduil leaned over.

"Do not try one of your pranks again, Legolas," he whispered in mock firmness. "I'm warning you."

"Yes Ada," Legolas replied with a small smile. "Calen's much easier prey, anyhow." The king sniffed and rode slightly ahead of his son. With the moment alone, Legolas opened the parchment. His keen elven eyes could clearly see what was inscribed upon the page, even in the darkness. His heart wrenched as he saw that it was two hearts intertwined, drawn obviously by Dev's own hand. Inside were the signatures of the twins, Elrond, and Arwen, as well as Estel's own childish scrawl. The elven prince smiled slightly to himself as tears built in his eyes. He folded the page once more and tucked it in his breast pocket, over his heart. He closed his tear-stung eyes for a long moment.

"_Farewell for now, Estel_," he murmured into the wind in Elvish. "_Until we meet_ _again I will always remember you_." He opened his eyes and glanced once at the path behind him, the same one he had walked with the boy on his first day. Khílya snuffled, as if trying to comfort the young elf on her back.

"Legolas! Keep up, _ïon-nîn_!" Thranduil called back. The elven prince turned and saw that he had fallen behind. He lightly kicked his mare's underbelly and raced ahead to catch up, looking back only in his heart.

Aragorn was the last to go in that night. He stood completely still on the steps, the brooch held tightly in his fist over his heart. His eyes never left the darkness through which Legolas had disappeared. The stars looked down at a small boy already missing his dear friend and brother of heart, but Estel did not weep. He knew they would meet again, Legolas had promised it and Aragorn felt it in his heart. He only had to be patient.

As the wind blew his unkempt curly locks, Estel thought he heard Legolas' voice on the wind, bidding him a gentle, soft farewell. Aragorn closed his eyes and his grip tightened on the brooch in his hand.

"_Namarie, Legolas_," he whispered. "_You will be in my heart and always will be. I_ _am looking forward to our next meeting_." The breeze swirled in the air, carrying a warm, soft voice to the boy's ears.

"_Indeed, gwanur-nîn, so am I_."

_We were the same – just the same – you and I._

_Follow your heart, little child of the west wind,_

_Follow the voice that's calling you home,_

_Follow your dreams, but always, remember me._

_I am your brother under the sun._

_We are like birds of a feather,_

_We are two hearts joined together,_

_We will be forever as one,_

_My brother under the sun._

_Wherever you hear-the wind through the trees,_

_Wherever you see-the stars in the sky,_

_Wherever you go-I'll be there with you._

_Because you are my brother._

_My brother under the sun._

_---Bryan Adams_

**Namarie.**

* * *

-hissssssss-  



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